


Fili Fridays

by StrictlyNoFrills



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Female Bilbo Baggins, Ficlets, Fíli Friday, Gen, Other characters to be added as they appear, oneshots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-01-25 21:50:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 43,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21363208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrictlyNoFrills/pseuds/StrictlyNoFrills
Summary: Exactly what it sounds like: The place where I celebrate Fili Friday by posting short oneshots appreciating Fili on Friday.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Fíli, Fem!Bilbo/Fili
Comments: 144
Kudos: 239





	1. A Pipe Most Improper

**Author's Note:**

> Some people are doing enormously fun (and pretty) things over on the Tumblr, which I do not have but occasionally visit, wherein they post gifs and manips of Fili on Friday. I find the scheme quite inspiring, and so felt the need to join in. As I have no technical skills whatsoever, I hope you will accept these ficlets as my offering. Some may be connected, many will be oneshots. All will appreciate Fili in some form.

“The first night is always the hardest,” was the platitude some of the kinder dwarves gave her when they saw her moving about stiffly at the end of the first day on their journey. Every time Kili heard it, he gained a highly entertained glint in his eyes, but Fili’s elbow finding a home in his little brother’s gut put an end to whatever cheeky thing Kili might have been working himself up to say.

  
The next night, those same dwarves patted her on the back gently – to their minds – and said, “The second night is the hardest.” Bilbo looked at them and opened her mouth to point out that this did not quite reconcile with what they said the night before. Then she thought better of it and shut her mouth. Who was she to argue with the wisdom of the dwarves? she asked herself ironically.

  
By the fifth night, she was somewhat accustomed to riding, and received far fewer pitying glances from those who spared any thought to her at all.  
To celebrate, she went to pull out her pipe, only to discover that it was missing. “Hang on,” she muttered. “Where could you have gone off to, I wonder?”

  
“Did you lose something, Miss Baggins?” Fili asked as he walked by, having caught her searching through the rest of her things.

  
“My pipe,” she replied distractedly. “I cannot find my pipe.” Her eyes felt suspiciously wet, and she sniffed firmly to keep any traitorous tears at bay. “It used to belong to my father, and now I’ve gone and lost it.”

  
Fili set aside the firewood he had gathered and came over to put his hand upon her shoulder. “Here, now. I’m sure it will turn up. In the meantime, you may share mine.”

  
Bilbo’s face flushed scarlet. To think of putting her lips where Fili’s had been! Why, it would almost be like a kiss, which would be most improper, as they had no sort of understanding between them at all. Even so, it was very kind of Fili to offer, and she did not wish to trample upon some dwarven custom by refusing. She shook her head at herself and accepted. “Thank you, Fili. I would appreciate that very much.”

  
He retrieved his pipe and led her a little ways away from the rest of the Company. There was a large boulder for them to lean back against, and he bade her sit down whilst he loaded and lit his pipe. Then he sat down beside her, his taller, broader body radiating comforting heat in the chill of the evening. He offered her the first puff, and Bilbo inhaled a little of the dwarven weed, which was slightly weaker than that of the Shire, and then let out a perfect smoke ring, if she did say so herself. She passed the pipe into his large, calloused hand, and then watched as he put the pipe to his own lips. As he breathed in, Bilbo matched him, feeling her eyes darken at the sight of his generous mouth where hers had been, all her earlier scruples quite forgotten. He released a decent enough ring of smoke, she supposed, but Bilbo was far more interested in the purse of his full lips, which glistened ever-so-slightly in the firelight from where he had licked them not too long ago.

  
Her breath quickened, and she was glad to have an excuse to look elsewhere when Fili handed the pipe back. Her hand trembled a little as she accepted the pipe, and she took a grateful pull of weed.

  
“Tell me, Miss Baggins,” Fili began, his voice lower and rougher than Bilbo remembered hearing it last, “have you a suitor waiting for you at home?”

  
A suitor? Bilbo? “N-no, Master Fili. There is no one.” Who would seek the hand of the only daughter of Belladonna Baggins? She had long since resigned herself to dying an old maid. She had her books and her garden and her young cousins when she wanted for company, and that was more than enough for her, or so she told herself.

  
Fili hummed and then accepted the pipe she passed back with nerveless fingers. He held her gaze as he wrapped his lips around the tip, and Bilbo’s breath came in a sharp gasp. His horribly wonderful mouth twisted up in a cocky grin that should not have been nearly so appealing, and Bilbo felt the blood rushing in her ears. She squirmed and then gritted her teeth, ordering herself to find some modicum of control. She was not some brainless tween lass, so vulnerable as to have her head turned by the fleeting attention of a young lad – not even one so handsome as the Crown Prince in Exile, whose sunshine hair and summer sky eyes rendered him quite exotic to a lass who hailed from a land where such coloring was as rare as a four leafed clover, and far more highly prized. Blond hair and blue eyes meant peace and prosperity whenever they manifested in a hobbit line, and any lad or lass who had such features was quite spoiled for his or her choice of suitors once they came of age. Bilbo had always striven to be above such shallow considerations, but for all her high-mindedness, and to her great consternation, found herself embarrassingly susceptible now.

  
Finishing the weed that night was torture, though it at least had the benefit of putting the loss of her father’s pipe quite out of her head.

  
That night, she walked over to her bedroll on shaking legs, and it had nothing to do with having ridden a pony for the better part of five days.

* * *

  
The next morning, Bilbo found her father’s pipe sitting on top of her pack, and she gave a happy cry. But how –   
She glanced toward Fili, who gave her a wink and nodded toward Nori, who issued her a cheeky salute.

  
Bilbo raised a disapproving eyebrow at him for his temerity but then nodded slowly. Fair enough. She would find a suitable way to get back at her pipe thief.

  
She mouthed her thanks to Fili, and he cut her a flourishing bow. Then she turned away to help Bombur with breakfast, and that was the end of the matter. For her, at least. For Nori, it was only the beginning.


	2. The Art of the Illusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili and his co-conspirators play a long con on the rest of the Company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Fili Friday! ISeeFire seems to be determined to break all of our brains with all the gifs and fan art of the pretty, pretty sons of Durin on the Tumblr.
> 
> Hopefully this ficlet lives up to all the images of Fili. It toes the line of "T" but doesn't quite cross it, and neither will any of the other drabbles or ficlets.

“To think I would live to be good-morninged by Belladonna Took’s son!”

Bella froze and then turned to study the wandering wizard anew. Belladonna’s _what now? _It was true enough, she supposed, that she favored her older brother quite a bit, and that it had been longer than Bella had been alive since Gandalf had been in these parts, so he might not know about her birth, nor even, perhaps, her brother’s death during the Fell Winter. Yet surely Gandalf, who came as close as any of the Big Folk ever could to being considered an authority on hobbits, could see that not only was she _not_ a ‘he,’ she was far too young to be the firstborn of Bungo and Belladonna Baggins.

Then again… She looked down with a critical eye at her brother’s old vest and trousers, which she preferred whenever she was not anticipating company. She supposed they did a decent enough job concealing her sex, given her oddly slender form. She blamed it on too much Fallowhide blood and a penchant for exercise.

‘Well,’ she thought, ‘this should at least prove entertaining, for however long the ruse lasts.’

* * *

As soon as the door shut behind them, Fili had her backed up against it, her legs wrapped around his waist and her hands tangled up in his hair.

“Do you think they bought it?” he murmured, his hot breath sending a jolt of heat through her where it rested at the juncture between her neck and shoulder.

“Why, ah, wouldn’t they?” she asked between gasps as he mouthed at her tender skin, his beard scratching deliciously. She had missed this, as she always did when he had to return to his duties in Ered Luin. “Although I do believe Kili is over-selling it a little. ‘Mister Boggins.’ I almost ruined it then and there by laughing.”

“Well, we can’t have that.”

With a shuddering gasp, Bella agreed. “N-oo-oo, we can’t.” She tugged on his hair a little. When he stopped his ministrations and looked at her, she rasped, “Bed. Now.”

He was only too happy to oblige. Without looking, he walked the path his feet had followed many times before, and cradled her carefully as he allowed himself to fall backwards onto the mattress. She gazed down at him and ran her fingers over his brow, his eyebrows, his cheeks and nose and lips. She leaned down to press a gentle kiss to his neck and then one to the flesh above his heart.

“What are you doing, Ghivashel?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Just memorizing you. It will be a long time before we may be together like this again. I’m saving up for the road.”

He reached up to brush her long, riotous curls out of her eyes. “We will find the time Mizimil, and if the quest fails and we must return empty-handed, we will come home and spend as much time wrapped up in each other as we wish.”

She closed her eyes, pained. “If the quest fails, my heart, one or both of us will likely be dead.”

His gaze softened further, losing some of its heat, though none of its passion. “Come here,” he whispered, drawing her down to lie flat against him. He wrapped his arms about her and then rolled, leaving her beneath the protection of his strong form. Until learning of the quest, Bella had believed Fili’s strong arms and powerful body could shield her from anything. She could not help but wonder if he was strong enough to protect her from a dragon, though. She knew the story of Smaug’s sacking of Erebor as well as anyone close to a member of the resulting diaspora. If the strongest nation of the seven could not hold against the dragon’s fire, what could her husband do, brave and skilled though he might be?

He captured her lips in a gentle kiss and then braced his weight on one hand so that he could hold her cheek with the other, caressing the fine bone of her cheek with a calloused thumb. “You do not have to do this, Bella. You have not signed the contract. You may still stay in the Shire, where it is safe.”

She placed her own, much smaller and more delicate hand over his. “And be forced to wonder every day, for months, whether you still lived? No, Fili. Whatever your fate may be in this, I would have it be mine also. I gave you my vows before my grandfather, my grandmother, and both of our Makers. I will not shrink from them the first moment the way grows dark.”

Fili stroked her cheek once more and then nodded, sighing, “As you wish.” His hands strayed to the hooks of her braces, and she kept her gaze locked with his as he released them.

Their soft cries and sweet sighs echoed through the night as they both shored up memories for the road, and she knew they were of the same mind. If this was to be their last moment alone, possibly forever, then they would make it such a moment, to carry them through the days and weeks and months ahead.

When the sun began to rise, they shared one last, desperate kiss, and then they parted, Fili going to clean himself off in the wash basin upon the vanity. He retrieved his clothes from where they’d scattered in the midst of their ardor and pulled them on perfunctorily. Then he stopped at the head of the bed and laid a kiss upon her brow. “Get some sleep. We do not leave the Green Dragon until 11:00 this morning, so you have some time.”

“What about you?” she asked drowsily.

Fili shrugged. “I’ve gone without sleep before. I’ll be fine.”

Bella let out a soft sigh, lamenting, “The bed always feels so empty without you in it.”

He skimmed his knuckles lightly down her cheek. “You can hardly keep your eyes open. A few minutes from now, you’ll hardly notice I’m gone. Sleep, beloved.”

“Mmm. Love you,” she breathed.

“And I you.”

She only realized her eyes had closed unbidden when she heard the faint sound of the door shutting, leaving her alone. She fell asleep mere moments after and did not wake until she had only twenty minutes to spare. She dressed and packed in a flurry of motion, stopping to peek in the oven. She smiled at the sight of the pasties sitting within, knowing Fili must have hidden them there when the others were not looking. She snagged her breakfast and signed the contract, making her way out of the smial and locking the door. She ate as she ran, fighting not to choke, and arrived at the Green Dragon with not a moment to spare.

Balin met her at the door and accepted the contract. He barely glanced at her signature, which was quite fortunate, as she had signed her true name in order to avoid the agreement being declared void later, before rolling up the contract and welcoming her to the Company.

She grinned at him with full cheeks and then finished swallowing her final bite, swiping her face for crumbs. Balin’s lips twitched as he eyed her in amusement, but all he did was clap her on the back and lead her toward where the others waited astride their ponies. He helped her up, and she shifted slightly in the saddle, trying to get comfortable. Then she sneezed and had to grab onto the pony’s neck to avoid being unseated. She snuffled and then righted herself, resigned to a miserable however long it would take for the terrain to become too rough for pack animals.

Fili, who had turned around in his saddle to watch her approach, eyed her in sympathy. He knew how poorly her allergies made her feel. She shrugged and then jerked her head forward, urging him to turn around lest they give up the game too early.

Ever the dutiful husband, he turned to face forward, and Bella took a moment to admire his broad back, and how well he rode. Then her mind wandered to the night before, and she felt her cheeks color. She turned her gaze away and told herself to focus. She had enough to be getting on with. No need to get distracted and fall from her horse. Fili would only fret, and then it would be her fault everyone learned the truth, and she was already having much too much fun keeping the wool over their eyes to ruin it this early in their journey.

As they went, she reflected on how she had reached this point.

It had started, she supposed, when she and her mother had lost Bungo and Bilbo to wolves during the Fell Winter. Her mother had tried to hold on for Bella, and indeed, she had managed for another twenty years, until Bella was nearly of age, and by that point, she could take care of herself.

Shortly after the funeral, in the spring, two young smiths had come to the Shire. It had been many years since Belladonna had felt up to making the journey to Bree to have any of their pots, pans, knives, and gardening tools repaired, and Bella had taken it upon herself to pay a visit to the smiths, feeling that it was her duty to keep the things her family had left behind in good order. She had passed the handsome, slightly older, blond dwarf her trowel, and their hands had brushed, and that, as they say, had been that. Kili had been forced to introduce Fili to her, as Fili had been too busy staring at Bella as though she were a newly discovered vein of mithril in a mine. The three of them came to know each other quite well over the months that the two brothers stayed in the Shire practicing their craft and earning some coin to take back to their settlement in Ered Luin. Bella had felt quite bereft when they had to leave at the start of fall, but the next spring, they returned, and so the spring after that. The day Bella reached her majority, Fili asked for her hand, quite unwilling to spend another moment without having her as his wife. Bella had been only too happy to say yes.

It had not been until a few months into their marriage that Bella discovered that she had unwittingly married into the royal family. She had thought she was marrying a young smith – and indeed, she was, but Fili was far, far more than that – and was quite put out to learn that if the dwarves of Erebor ever reclaimed their homeland, she would be expected to join them as the wife of their crown prince. Fili had spent a few nights sleeping in one of the guest rooms for after that little revelation. They had weathered that first major argument as a married couple and come out the other side of it a little wiser, and a little more sure of their marriage, which Bella supposed made it all worth it. They had also, however, agreed to keep the truth of their marriage from the settlement in the Blue Mountains for as long as possible, as there were certain traditionalists in the colony who would not take kindly to the Crown Prince – even in exile as he was – having a hobbit as a wife.

When Fili and Kili arrived in the Shire for their smithing duties this year, they also came bearing news: their uncle had decided to try to reclaim Erebor. The Grey Wanderer had gotten to Thorin and convinced him that now was the time to try and take back the lands that were stolen from them, and when the time came, Fili and Kili would be joining the quest. There were also rumors of another member for their party, though they did not know whom the wizard had in mind until he strolled up to Bag End two days earlier and confused Bella with her brother.

Between the three of them, Bella, Fili, and Kili had hatched the scheme to conceal her sex and her marriage to Fili from the rest of the Company until it would be too late for them to do anything about it, such as try to send her back home. Dwarves were funny about their womenfolk, Bella had gathered, and it was that sort of complication which could cause problems during the quest. Aside from that, it was quite amusing to see so many dwarves, who laughed at the other races for never recognizing their dams, completely failing to realize that there was a lass among them.

* * *

By the time they stopped for the day, Bella was exhausted and sore all over, and all she wanted was to curl up next to Fili and sleep for the next year. She eyed his bedroll longingly and then huffed at herself. ‘Not even a full day in and you’re already crumpling? Have some backbone, lass. Some gumption. Where is your Took side when you need it?’

Kili bumped up against her side gently, though he played it off. “Ah, excuse me, Mister Boggins! Didn’t see you there. You’re so tiny, see?”

She wrinkled her nose at him, trying not to smile, but his small bit of affection had already done its work. She perked up and set about helping Bombur, the quiet but kind red-headed dwarf, prepare supper.

Fili helped with the fire and then scouted the perimeter, though they were still within the borders of the Shire, so he needn’t have bothered. When he returned, she quirked a sassy eyebrow at him. “Is all quiet, then, Master Fili?”

His lips twitched. “All save your stomach rumbling, Mister Baggins. I heard it from half a mile away.”

“It’s no fault of mine that you lot do not observe proper mealtimes, sir. If you do not wish for my stomach to disturb anything near our Company, there is a simple enough solution: feed me.”

He tossed two apples at her, and she caught them deftly. “Here, little burglar. Munch on those while you cook, so that there’s something left for the rest of us.”

Noticing that some of the others had paused in their tasks to eye them curiously, Bella rubbed one of the apples on her vest and took a big, crunchy bite, feeling the juices run down her chin and caring not a bit. Then she nodded her thanks to Fili and turned back to the potatoes she was supposed to be slicing.

Fili’s duties already seen to for the evening, he drew out his fiddle and began to play a jocular tune. Bella was familiar with it and found herself humming along under her breath as she worked. Bombur gave her an odd look, but said nothing about it, and in about an hour, dinner was ready and served.

That night, she gazed up at the stars from her bedroll and hoped there would be many more days such as this, and that no trouble would befall them.

* * *

Trolls were definitely trouble, and she did not appreciate their disturbance of her strange idyll one bit. The journey up until this point had been fairly pleasant. Her only complaints were her inability to sleep beside her husband, and the lack of six meals a day. Fili snuck her things when he came across them on his scouting missions, and she picked root vegetables and safe mushrooms, berries, and herbs whenever she came across them and they had a chance to stop, but she could still feel a distinct loosening of her trousers about her waist, bum, and thighs as she slimmed even further. She bid her few curves a wistful goodbye and tightened her belt, hoping Fili would not mind the changes in her shape.

The little tryst they had snagged at the creek the Company had come across the evening before reassured her that aside from being concerned about her health, Fili did not mind her even slimmer figure a bit. She much preferred spending her evenings in such pleasurable manners to where she was now, in the grips of a troll. She had come across her husband and his brother staring at the ponies in dismay and wanted so badly to fix it that she had gone haring off after the trolls with nary a thought.

Fili was going to kill her, provided that he did not die of a heart attack first.

It was slightly gratifying that the rest of the Company leapt to her defense against three gigantic trolls after only having known her for a few weeks, but she could have done without being recaptured and then used to coerce the dwarves into dropping their weapons.

Tricking the trolls into staying up past their bedtime took all of Bella’s cunning, and by the end of it, she was almost certain that even her natural penchant for mischief would not be enough to keep her and the dwarves alive. Thank the Valar for Gandalf, though she could have done with his appearance a good deal sooner.

She freed Fili from his sack and then glanced about at the rest of the dwarves. They were too close for her to sneak a kiss without being noticed, but she squeezed Fili’s hand and apologized to him silently for putting herself at risk before darting off to free the next dwarf.

* * *

Elrond and his progeny were going to give the entire game away. The lord of the Last Homely House had raised a skeptical eyebrow when Gandalf introduce Bella as Bilbo Baggins, Belladonna Took’s son. She had caught the half-elven lord’s eye and shaken her head ever-so-slightly. Elrond kept his peace, but he gave her a private room and had his daughter and a few other, discrete elleths see to her comfort. The dwarves had been appalled at being separated from their burglar, but Bella had asked all of them to let the matter lie.

Now, as she licked her way into her husband’s generous mouth, she found that she could not maintain her irritation over the matter.

Fili pulled away to bury his face in her neck and nuzzle her there, drawing out a startled peal of laughter. “Quit it, you,” she giggled, “or you’ll leave marks, and then where will we be?”

“Hmm,” Fili hummed happily, nipping once at the flesh beneath his lips. Then he returned to her own, slightly parted lips and murmured, “I believe we would be right… about… here.”

* * *

“He has no place among us!” Thorin’s harsh words echoed in her ears, and she stared at him, stricken.

Then Fili came up beside her and wrapped her up in his arms protectively. _“She_ is my wife, and she has just as much right to be here as the rest of us.”

Thorin’s face, which before had been thunderous, was now mildly homicidal. “The burglar is WHAT?”

Bella burrowed into Fili’s side and responded tiredly, “I’m Bella Baggins, Fili’s wife. My older brother, Bilbo, died nearly thirty years ago in the Fell Winter. Knowing how protective dwarves are of their dams, when Gandalf assumed that I was my brother, Fili and I decided it would be best to simply allow the misconception to go on without correction.”

Thorin looked ready to tear into her again at this new revelation, but Fili tugged her away. “Come on, Bella. Let’s go lay down for the night.”

“Fili-“

“Thank you for saving my wife, Uncle. We’ll talk in the morning.” Bella felt an uncontainable swell of affection and pride for her husband. She was almost certain this was the first time Fili had ever so openly and firmly opposed his uncle, and she felt grateful to be able to witness it as he came into his own on this quest.

Fili led her a little ways away from the wary and inquisitive looks from the rest of the Company, save Kili, who brought his own pack and joined them. She and Fili laid their bedrolls side by side, and Bella finally had the opportunity to sleep curled up next to his comforting bulk in the sight of the others, rather than having to sleep away from him as she had for the first part of their journey. In the end, their ruse had not ended in the way she had expected, but she found she could not regret it. Not if this was the result.


	3. Of Princes and Plots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Kili are always up to something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's after midnight, so it counts! Happy Fili Friday, friends!

It took her an embarrassingly long time to catch on. In her defense, many of the others seemed similarly blind to the truth. However, hobbits were, as a rule, rather more clever than the bigger folk, and so she considered it a bit of an affront to her race that it had taken her so long.

Her hearing was what finally gave them away. Even from the back of the Company, she could hear them muttering and whispering to each other quietly – for a pair of dwarves, at least – and the things they whispered about were not the fluff and nonsense that she had come to expect from the supposedly wooly-headed sons of Durin. They spoke of potential trade routes and treaties and what might be considered fair taxation. They spoke of programs to help the widows, and schooling and apprenticeships for the orphaned. They discussed all of the lost lore that they might be able to rediscover in the great library and within the mines, and their concern over the gold sickness which had taken their great grandfather’s mind.

Bilbo affected a keen interest in the landscape all about them as they continued on their way, and allowed her twitching ears to absorb it all.

On the third day following her revelation, she volunteered to go with Fili to gather firewood whilst Kili and Dwalin hunted and the others set up camp.

He agreed affably enough, though he seemed mildly surprised by her desire to accompany him. Usually, she would help tend the ponies in an effort to force herself to become more comfortable around them, or she would help Bombur begin the preparations for the evening meal.

They headed off into the slowly gathering gloom together, chatting idly along the way, and then Fili found a good, sturdy stump where he could begin chopping wood, and Bilbo cast about for decent branches and twigs that would serve well enough as smaller bits of kindling. They worked in silence for a time, and then Bilbo came to the end of her patience. She had been sitting on this for three days too many as it was; her curiosity simply would not be suppressed any longer.

“Fili,” she started hesitantly, for as much as she wanted to understand, she also did not want to put him on his guard and end the fascinating discussions to which she was privy, “why do you and Kili hide how smart you are?”

Fili, who had been preparing to chop another piece of firewood, halted the motion of his ax and turned to look at her. “What makes you think that we do anything of the kind, Miss Baggins?”

Bilbo stared down at the curls on her feet, which for the first time in her life appeared large, in the presence of all these dwarves, and nary another hobbit in sight. She would need to find a stream so that she might wash and groom them soon. The amount of dirt and grime caked into her lovely foot hair was appalling.

“Miss Baggins?”

“…Hobbits have extremely sharp hearing.” She chanced a glance up and then averted her eyes on seeing the chagrin in Fili’s face. “We’re so small, you see, and not at all given to fighting, and so the best defense we have is our ability to hear threats coming long before they arrive, so that we might be able to get away.” She risked another glance and caught the smallest twist upward at the corners of his lips, and an amused light in his blue eyes. It gave her the encouragement she needed to continue. “At first, I didn’t mean to hear anything, but once I did, I found I could not stop listening. You and Kili both seem to have such insightful things to say. And I planned to keep it all to myself – it’s so lovely to have something to listen to as we travel, you see – but after constantly hearing you switch between the brilliant discussions you have when no one is paying attention to the (do forgive me) rather inane chatter you engage in around the others, I could not stand the mystery any longer. I had to know. You two have so much to offer. Why do you hide it away?”

He studied her after she finally ran out of words, and then he turned back to resume chopping firewood. Bilbo’s ears and shoulders drooped, and she resigned herself to picking up stray branches and twigs in silence.

“My uncle, as you know, can be quite stubborn,” Fili said casually, startling Bilbo into dropping the rather promising branch she had just picked up.

“Oh. Ah, yes. I had noticed,” she agreed with a nervous chuckle, stooping to retrieve the branch and hoping that Fili had not seen her fumble it, though she doubted she would be that lucky. From what she had gathered of the last few days, Fili saw _everything_.

“Rarely does he accept any ideas unless they are his own. So Kili and I picked up a trick from Balin over the years, though we go about it rather differently. We play the fool so as to never put anyone – namely, Thorin – on his guard and then we casually slip in an idea or two in such a way that Thorin will think he came up with them himself.”

Bilbo stared at him. “You… fool everyone into believing there’s not a bit of sense between you and your brother so that you may trick your uncle into doing things you believe need doing?” It was a stunning bit of manipulation, and Bilbo, whom had spent her entire life among hobbits, who performed social acrobatics of their own, was still duly impressed by the machinations of the two brothers.

He grinned at her. “No need to sound so scandalized, Miss Baggins.”

She shook her head. “Not scandalized,” she denied. “Just the opposite, really. I am heartily impressed. And frankly a little disappointed in your family for not figuring it out. Do they truly not know you at all? Does that not become exhausting, or, or lonely?”

“You would know a thing or two about that yourself, would you not?” Fili asked knowingly. “You protest your respectability and your Baggins temperament, but I have seen the thirst for adventure in you. You have been hiding away the best parts of yourself, and for what reason?”

Bilbo deflated. “You are right,” she admitted tiredly. “I have been very lonely since my mother and father passed away. But I was afraid if I did not play the part of a proper Baggins, I would lose Bag End, and I could not bare the thought of it. My father built that smial for my mother with his bare hands, Fili. How could I do anything that would mean having to let that go? Perhaps it would not be so dire if I were not a lass, but I am, and I have no prospects for a husband. One day – possibly quite soon, if this quest is any indication – Bag End will be lost to me.”

Keen blue eyes gazed at her steadily, for once solemn, rather than amused. “If you lose your home because you helped us in reclaiming our own, Miss Baggins, then I will help you take it back. You should not have to give up everything you hold dear for a group of dwarves you only met a few days ago.”

“That’s not how it seemed when you made free with my larder and my crockery,” she teased, trying to lighten the abruptly heavy mood. Then she paused and reflected. “That was all part of the act, though, wasn’t it? I shall have to stop and remind myself every time you two get up to your antics. You are altogether too convincing when you’ve a mind to be.”

“Then you’ll just have to spend more time with me like this,” Fili proposed, only slightly sly. “To be honest, it will be a relief to have someone else we can be ourselves around. Do not be mistaken, Kili and I enjoy all of the foolishness we get up to, but as you have learned, that is only a small part of who we are.”

Bilbo found that she could not fight against a smile, and that her cheeks and the tips of her ears felt rather warm. “Well, I suppose if it will help you…”

He was laughing at her. Perhaps not out loud, but she could see it in his warm gaze, and the small crinkles in the corners of his eyes. “Ever the altruist, aren’t you, Miss Baggins.”

Her ears twitched, and if one of her hands had been free, she would have rubbed the back of her neck. “Ahah, well, yes. Something like that.”

Fili smiled at her, and she felt warm from the tips of her ears and all the way down to her toes, even in the slight chill of the spring night air.


	4. In the dining hall of the elven king

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the duties of the crown prince are onerous indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a short one this week, folks, as I'm focusing more on my long shifter AU, but I didn't want to miss celebrating Fili Friday! This one is inspired by a short scene from the novel.
> 
> Happy Fili Friday! And a belated Happy Thanksgiving, to those of you who celebrate it!

This was intolerable. To narrowly escape having his spine severed and then survive plummeting from a height that all the healers agreed should have killed him, only to then be brought low by treacherous dishes.

  
Fili narrowed his eyes at the one certain to be responsible for this perfidy, but kept the pleasant, diplomatic smile upon his face by shear force of will. He had no idea how the elven king had come to know of Fili’s aversion to apples, but if this was what the lord of the woodland realm chose to do with such information, Fili would take it as a sign that relations between the elves and dwarves of the east were as yet unready for the closer ties both Thranduil and Thorin claimed to desire.

  
Then again, this might, in some small way, have to do with the barrels his uncle had sent as gifts to their adjoining nation, and so perhaps Fili could lay the blame for this act of ill will at Thorin’s feet.

  
Regardless of where the guilt truly lay, Fili eyed the feast before him with distaste and trepidation. Already, he could feel his stomach beginning to clench at the sickeningly sweet scent that permeated the great dining hall, and he was unsure how long he would be able to suppress his discomfort for the sake of diplomacy. Had he not been here to represent his uncle whilst Thorin dealt with a dispute that had arisen in Erebor between several of the guilds, Fili would already have made polite excuses and beat a hasty retreat. As it was, he knew he must remain seated at Thranduil’s table for another hour, at least. Provided, of course, that he could make it that long.

  
The source of his dismay was, naturally, the overabundance of apples. There were roasted apples garnishing the chicken and the pork. A tureen of baked apples sat mockingly upon the table directly before his own seat. The thick, dark, crusty bread had chunks of apple baked in, along with what looked like raisins and nuts. To drink, the elves had poured generous goblets full of hot apple cider, and Fili had heard Thranduil remark casually to his son on how he so looked forward to the apple tart that was to serve as their dessert. 

  
With a deep breath which he took discreetly through his slightly parted lips, Fili steeled himself and lifted his fork, cutting off a portion of the chicken breast upon his plate. He placed the morsel into his mouth and had to fight against the urge to wince. 

  
Though he had managed to avoid receiving a piece of the chicken which touched the garnish, the entire chicken must have been marinaded in some sort of apple concoction before it was roasted. He forced himself to chew with the same sort of determination with which he had clung to the side of the mountain during the thunder battle many months ago, and then he swallowed. 

  
When he glanced up, he caught Thranduil eyeing him with idle interest, and Fili offered him a tight grin. Reaching for his goblet, he took a slow sip of the hot cider, careful to keep most of it from touching the top of his tongue, in an effort to spare his taste buds. Thranduil raised one of his thick, dark eyebrows at the action and then, once Fili had swallowed, offered a single, slow dip of the head in acknowledgement. 

  
Fili bowed his head in return and then waited for Thranduil to tire of this staring game. Once the elven king had found something else to occupy him, Fili set his goblet down as carefully and swiftly as he would set down a snake and resigned himself to spending the next week with an empty belly, as even if he managed to eat more than a few mouthfuls of what Thranduil’s people served within his halls, it would not long remain within his stomach once he felt justified in quitting the table.

  
He stared down at his hands for moment, not sure when they had clenched, and when he looked up again, he spotted something new upon his plate:  
Someone had taken pity upon him and slipped him a roll. 

  
He glanced about the dining hall discretely, but he could not find the source of the small baked good. With a shrug, Fili tore off a piece of the soft, buttery bread and had to fight down a moan of relief. 

  
Not even a hint of apple.

  
Perhaps he would survive this week after all.


	5. She's just not that into you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loosely inspired by Gigi and Alex's relationship arc in _He's Just Not That Into You (2009)_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Fili Friday! Posting a little late today, and I'm not entirely happy with this one, but I have much to do today, so it will have to suffice as it is.

“Oh, no, thank you. That’s alright. I’m waiting for someone. It’s our second date.” She gave the bartender a charming smile to soften the blow of her rejecting his offer of alcohol, along with the vague promise that she would sip something stronger than filtered water at some point this evening. For now, she wanted a clear head. It was a big bar, if calmer and quieter than the ones back home, and she was quite small in it. No need to set herself up for some sort of trouble by imbibing something while she was here alone.

“Yeah?” the dwarf asked, polishing a shot glass. “How did the two of you meet?”

Bilbo casually tried to fix her mass of curls to appear more tidy once her date arrived. If the action served to distract her from the play of the bartender’s muscles beneath his white button-down shirt as his hands moved repetitively, that was no one’s business but her own. She was on a date, not married or dead.

“A mutual friend set us up. A friend of my mother’s actually.” She gave up her hair as a bad job, quirking an eyebrow at her bartender’s slightly crestfallen expression and noting that he had been polishing that particular shot glass for some time now. It should shine especially bright beneath the low lighting in the bar once he finally decided he was done with it. “He has decided that I will not find anyone in the Shire and so he offered to let me stay in a cottage of his in Dale for the summer while classes aren’t in session – I teach languages and cultural studies, you see – so that I can meet some new people. Thorin was the first person on the list, apparently.”

The dwarf behind the bar froze for a moment and then at last placed the shot glass down with a great deal of care, perhaps in an effort to preserve his good work.

“Thorin?” he repeated, sounding slightly apprehensive.

“Well, yes. Why? Do you know a Thorin?”

“You could say that,” he replied, resting his hands on the bar. “Did you happen to set a time for the two of you to meet this evening?”

Her brow furrowed, but she saw no reason to refrain from answering him. Had Thorin not been delayed somehow, the bartender would have known already. “Well, naturally we did, yes. We decided to meet at 5:00 this evening. Why?”

He shook his head. “Is your name Bilbo?” he asked, rather than answering her question.

“Yes, it is.” She squinted at him suspiciously. “How did you know?”

With a sigh, he told her, “Lass, I hate to break it to you, but he’s not coming.”

She laughed at him, incredulous. “What makes you say that? I mean, sure, he’s a little late.” More like an hour, but who was counting? “But that doesn’t mean he won’t show at all.”

“No, really,” he argued. “He isn’t coming. In a few minutes, check your phone. There’ll be something in a text about a business emergency that’s cropped up, and he’s sorry to have to miss your date. And then he’ll ask for a raincheck that will never be cashed.”

Mystified in the face of his certainty, Bilbo stared at him for several moments and then asked, “How could you possibly know that? And anyway, we might not even be talking about the same person. There could be lots of Thorins in this part of the world.”

“There could be,” he allowed doubtfully. “But I know for a fact that my uncle was supposed to meet a lass by the name of Bilbo here around 5:00 this evening, and I also know he never intended to make it.”

That made absolutely no sense. Thorin had seemed like many things on their first date – brooding, intense, slightly wounded, arrogant, and a little abrupt at times – but he had not seemed inherently dishonest. What could account for such bizarre behavior? She hadn’t thought their date had gone that poorly.

“Why ever not?” she asked faintly, still trying to fit all the pieces together in her mind.

“Because this is what he does. He makes it through the first blind date, schedules the second, and then comes up with some sort of reason to avoid coming. The truth is, he is never going to settle down any more than he already has. That dwarf is married to his work.”

Ah, yes. Thorin’s mysterious job. She knew little of what he did, aside from the fact that it involved the Ereborean government in some capacity. “Well, then why does he bother at all?” Bilbo asked, choosing not to inquire further about this unspecified government position, as it mattered little enough now. The thought of being just another in a long string of lasses Thorin had dated once and then cast away wounded her in a way she did not care to delve into too deeply.

The bartender frowned at her in sympathy. “Don’t look so down. He doesn’t do it to be cruel. He just has to appear to be trying to find someone in order to appease the public.”

“What does the public have to do with the matter?”

He eyed her for a moment, clearly surprised. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” though what she truly wanted to say was _clearly not_.

“My uncle is the king of Erebor.” He proceeded to give her a graceful bow from behind the bar. “Crown Prince Fili, at your service.”

She stared at him, wide-eyed. Surely not? What could Gandalf have been thinking, to try setting Bilbo up with royalty? In what universe would that not end in utter disaster? The Shire was a _democratic republic! _They had not honored any sort of monarchy since the beginning of the Fourth Age. Bilbo would not know the first thing about how to navigate life in a royal family.

Rather than allow herself to go to pieces over the catastrophe that might have been, and deciding to simply be grateful that it would never be, she demanded, “What is a crown prince doing tending bar? Shouldn’t you be doing something more – I don’t know. Princely?”

He chuckled at her kindly. “I lost a bet with a friend of mine who owns this place. This is what he wanted if he won.”

She frowned at him. “Your friends and family are very strange.” Then she blushed at her own audacity. “Your Highness.”

Shaking his head, Prince Fili said, “Ah, none of that. My friends call me Fili.”

She cocked her head slightly. “Are we friends?”

“We are now.”

There was a buzzing noise, and Bilbo jumped, feeling her pants pocket vibrate against her bum. She pulled out her phone and read the message, and then she looked at Fili with wide eyes.

“Well?” he asked, his face kind but expectant.

“You were right. About all of it.”

He gave her another sympathetic look and then pulled out a wine glass, finding a fancy-looking wine bottle and pouring a fair amount. Setting it in front of her, he waved off her protest. “It’s on the house, and I won’t hear any arguments otherwise. I’ll keep an eye on you, make sure no one tries to get too friendly, if that’s what you’re worried about. I am sorry about my uncle. He means well, but he’s always been far better with running the kingdom than he is dealing with people on a personal basis.”

“Thank you. For the wine, and for being so honest.” She glared at the message on her phone. “Goodness me, what do I say? I cannot tell him that it’s alright. Not knowing the truth as I do. It is all well and good to have good intentions, but those good intentions of his involve leading a slew of women on, and I cannot condone that.” Her gaze flashed up from the phone to meet Fili’s, and she winced. “I’m sorry, but it’s the truth. I had to speak my mind.” She took a sip of her wine to give her mouth something to do aside from running unchecked.

His lips twitched beneath his well-tamed beard. “Something tells me that’s to be expected with you. I like it, though. It’s refreshing.”

“Hmm,” she uttered, giving the wine in her glass a pleasantly surprised glance. “This is quite good. And it’s equally good that you appreciate my frankness, because I’m afraid that you are absolutely right. I have quite the reputation back home for ignoring the politeness that governs every aspect of Shire society – which is one among many reasons that I am unlikely to ever find a hobbit willing to date me for anything other than my inheritance.”

“Proof that the males of all races are idiots,” Fili replied wryly.

“Oh, you’re not all bad,” Bilbo disagreed, waving the hand not cupped around her glass vaguely. “You seem quite lovely and not at all like an idiot.”

“Thank you for that,” the prince replied, his tone dry.

“You’re welcome.”

“Here,” he said after huffing, gesturing for her phone. “Since we’re friends, allow me to give you my number, and I’ll give you mine, and maybe, since I am, in your words, not at all like an idiot, I can help you navigate this whole summer, as Gandalf apparently isn’t going to do the job properly.”

She picked up the phone and held onto it for a moment. “You would do that?”

“Aye, I would.”

“You hardly know me. Why are you being so kind to me? And I still have no idea what to say to your uncle.”

He motioned for the phone again, and finally, she passed it over after typing in her passcode. “As I said, I find your honesty refreshing. Dwarves aren’t known for their deceitfulness, but we can be extremely close-mouthed, which is nearly as bad as dealing falsely with someone, in my opinion. How can we expect people to understand us, or hope to understand other people in turn, if we’re never willing to open up?” His thick, strong-looking fingers moved slowly but surely over the screen as he spoke, and a moment later, the faint strains of phone alert music drifted to her ears. “There,” he said, returning her phone. “Now you have my number, and I have yours.” He leaned forward, his elbows on the bar, and stared into her eyes intently. “Promise me that if you go on one of these blind dates and you feel the slightest bit uncertain or uncomfortable, you’ll call me. I doubt Gandalf would try to set you up with anyone who would do you any real harm, but as I understand it, you’re out here, miles away from your home and your family, trying to meet someone without anyone around to look after you in case anything goes wrong, and that just doesn’t sit right with me.”

As she gazed back at him, she swallowed reflexively, feeling quite exposed beneath those gentle yet penetrating eyes. “I’m a hobbit lass grown, you know,” she argued feebly. “I’ve been on my own for quite some time now.”

“Not like this,” Fili replied implacably. “Promise me.”

“You’re a prince. Surely you’re too busy, when you aren’t fulfilling the terms of lost bets, to worry about some spinster hobbit.”

Raising his eyebrows, Fili told her, “_You_ are far too lovely and not nearly old enough to be considered a spinster.” He was silent for a moment, and then he reminded her, “I’m still waiting.”

Oh, what was the harm in it, really? “Yes, alright. I promise.”

The smile he bestowed upon her was blinding, and somewhere far, far too the back of her mind, she wondered if her mother’s old friend might not have set her up with the wrong royal. But that was preposterous, of course. Hobbit lasses like her did not get mixed up in romantic relationships with royals. It simply was not done.

* * *

“It’s really not about the prosthetic,” she hastened to clarify. “I have no problem with that at all. Only, he has such a ferocious temper, and his manners are atrocious.”

“Bilbo?” Fili asked carefully. “Why are you whispering?”

“I’m hiding out in the bushes outside the restaurant.”

There was silence from the other end of the line for a beat and then she heard him say firmly, “I’m coming to get you.”

“Fili-“

“No, just stay on the line with me and don’t leave those bushes. I don’t know what in Mahal’s name Gandalf was thinking trying to set you up with Azog, of all people, but he’s clearly been smoking too much of your people’s pipe weed.”

“Did you just insult one of the Shire’s major exports?”

“I do believe I did. You can spend the fifteen minutes it’ll take me to reach you telling me off about it.”

“Mmm. Don’t mind if I do.”

* * *

“He made you what?”

“He made me faint,” Bilbo repeated reluctantly, mumbling the words. “Honestly, he didn’t do it on purpose. He’s quite nice, really. Just a bit overenthusiastic. He just got so excited, talking about the dragons they’re trying to engineer in the lab from the bits of old bone they found while mining several months ago, and what it would be like if they could bring them out of extinction, and I just-“

“Fainted,” Fili finished, his voice flat.

“Well, yes.”

“I’m coming to get you.”

She didn’t even bother to try arguing this time.

* * *

“He put his hand _where?”_

“On my thigh. I’m currently in the lavatory. Told him I needed to powder my nose.” She snorted in a most unladylike manner. “I never powder my nose.”

“Good. Take your time. Make him wait for you…. Do you have anything other than money and makeup in your purse? Something to keep you occupied?”

“I have my phone,” she reminded him ironically.

“Ah,” he replied, sounding abashed. “Of course. Would you like to keep talking, or do you want to read something or play a game?”

She glanced about the lavish ladies room. It was early enough in the evening that there were not too many patrons in the steak place Smaug had chosen, and she had the lavatory to herself, which was why she was currently curled up on the soft golden fainting couch, any concerns about not wrinkling her dress long gone.

As much as she appreciated the privacy, she also did not want to be alone. “I’d like to keep talking, if you aren’t too busy.”

He huffed softly. “You know I’m never too busy for you.”

* * *

“It is entirely possible that Gandalf has lost the last of his marbles. Has Thranduil done anything aside from gaze at himself in the mirror and talk about how wonderful he is?”

She fought against a silly grin, already feeling better simply from hearing her friend’s voice, which was rapidly becoming one of her favorite sounds. “Well, earlier he took a short call from the king of Dale.”

“Did he, now?” Fili asked, sounding slightly mischievous. “Anything I should know about?”

She rolled her eyes. “Not that I would know. He stepped away from the table when the call came through.”

“Aren’t hobbits supposed to be stealthy?” he teased. “You should have followed him.”

“I thought the idea of all this was to keep me _out_ of danger.”

“Oh, Thranduil wouldn’t do anything to you. He may be a narcissist and a lackluster king, but he isn’t evil.” He _hmm_ed and then added, “Well, actually, he might throw you in his dungeon for a little while. Never mind. You’re absolutely right. Best not risk it.”

“Drat. You’d really started to talk me around to the idea, and I was _so_ beginning to look forward to it,” Bilbo lamented, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You’ll just have to bear the disappointment, I’m afraid,” he replied, the humor leaking through his mock solemnity.

One of the waitresses approached the little alcove she’d hidden herself in. “Excuse me, Miss? The elven king sent me to look for you. He said you’d been gone for a while.”

Bilbo glanced up at the ornate clock on the wall. “Well, that only took him about thirty minutes. I supposed I should be flattered he looked away from the mirror long enough to notice I was gone.”

The waitress stared at her with wide green eyes, unsure how to react to Bilbo’s obvious lack of reverence.

“Please inform the king that I made my apologies and left our date early. I’m afraid I have a headache and cannot stay.”

“May I get you anything?” she asked, looking distressed at even the notion of having to be the one to deliver the news to her lord.

Bilbo patted the lass on the hand, which was as high as she could reach. For such a timid thing, she was quite tall. “Don’t fret, dear. It’s nothing a few pain relievers and a nice, hot bath won’t cure.”

“You have a headache?” Fili broke in, clearly concerned.

“Yes, I do. Its name is Gandalf.”

* * *

She opened the front door to Gandalf’s cottage at the sound of the insistent knocking, smiling bemusedly at the sight of her friend. “Fili! I wasn’t expecting you. We’re not due for our movie night for another few days.” They had started having movie nights once or twice a week after Fili had retrieved her from her date with Bofur, and she looked forward to those quiet evenings in more than she could say.

“Yes, I know. Sorry about just dropping in on you like this. I should have called first.”

She took in the rather flustered expression on his usually calm, mildly amused face, and moved back from the door, waving him forward. “Don’t worry about it. You know you’re always welcome here. Come in, come in.”

“Thank you,” he said, walking past her with far less of his usual swagger.

When she closed the door behind herself and turned to face him, she found him pacing agitatedly.

“Fili, whatever is the matter?”

He stopped and twisted so that his next step led her slightly closer to her. “How can you stand it?” he asked, raking his fingers through his hair. It was rather unkempt, as though he had been messing with it a great deal and taken no notice of its state, which was quite unlike him, and only served to further her concern.

“Stand what?” she asked warily.

“All those dates with all those ridiculous men? And then I come here, and we sit so close, and you smell so good, and you’re just – completely incredible, and far, far too good for any of the stupid sods Gandalf continues to throw at you, and you’re going to be gone in a week, and just – _how can you stand it?_ I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

He sounded a bit like he was, too, truth be told.

She stepped forward cautiously, placing a hand on his arm. “What’s this all about, Fili?” she asked gently, a fragile hope budding ever so slightly in her breast.

He reached for her hands, taking her delicate fingers in his much larger, sturdier ones and holding them to his chest. “I haven’t been entirely honest with you, Bilbo. About how I feel. Ever since we met at the bar, I’ve been falling for you a little more each day. I did want to be your friend, and I did want to help you, but my motives were never totally pure.”

“They weren’t?” she asked faintly, hardly daring to believe her ears.

Shaking his head slowly, he stepped ever so slightly closer. “No. I wanted – needed – to spend more time with you, and I hoped that maybe, just maybe, you might want the same thing. It has been incredible and completely maddening, getting to know you this summer, and I cannot stand the thought that in just a week, you won’t even be in Esgaroth anymore. That you won’t be in Erebor, with me.”

“So, so what exactly are you saying, Fili?” she whispered, desperately wishing that she was reading this situation correctly.

“I’m saying that I love you, and I am asking you – no, I am _begging you_, to stay.”

“Fili,” she said helplessly, “I would love to, but what about my job? My home? And what about all of that – that royalty nonsense?” She saw his lips twitch when she called his status and everything that came with it ‘nonsense’ but chose to ignore his mirth. “I can’t be a princess, Fili, and I definitely cannot be a queen.”

“Do you love me?”

“That’s not the point-“

“Do you love me?” he asked again.

How could she tell him anything other than the truth, when he gazed at her so earnestly, and he held her hands so gently? “Yes. Yes, of course I do. How could I not?”

He closed his eyes, a beatific smile lighting up his face before he opened his eyes again and looked down at her so lovingly she thought she might melt right into the floorboards beneath their feet. “Then trust me when I tell you that we will make it work. There are plenty of jobs for teachers in Erebor and Dale, and it will be many years before I ever ascend to the throne, if it even happens at all. Who knows? My uncle is so ornery he may outlive us all.”

“Oh, Yavannah. Your uncle. Whatever will he think of all this?”

“I imagine that he will simply be grateful that I have found someone who loves me back, rather than pining after every beautiful lass I speak to for more than a minute, as my little brother always does.”

She grinned up at him, unable to help herself, and pulled her hands away only so that she might wrap her arms about his shoulders. “Your family is so strange,” she giggled.

“You know,” Fili mused, “I do believe I have heard that before.”

“Have you, now? Whoever said it must have been very foolish, criticizing the royal family like that.”

“That or incredibly brave,” her love replied, leaning down and glancing at her lips tellingly.

She leaned up, lifting herself onto the balls of her feet, and tilting up her chin. “Brave, hmm? Yes, I suppose you might be right.”

“I’m always right,” Fili told her blithely, leaning down even further.

“No, dear. That would be me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Quite.”

Before he could respond with something that no doubt sounded far wittier in his head, she pulled him down that last little bit more and pressed her mouth against his, smiling as his whiskers brushed against the skin around her lips exactly as she’d imagined they would, in the rare moments when she allowed her thoughts to stray in a direction she’d thought forbidden, yet was now, and quite possibly forever, within her grasp.

Perhaps she would have to thank Gandalf for this crazy summer after all.

* * *

One of the more sedate Shire songs – of which there were few, as they were, on the whole, a merry lot – played softly in the background, adding a whimsical touch to the ballroom, which had been decorated in a mix of dwarven and hobbit styles that should not have worked, and yet looked quite lovely, the geometric patterns and strong lines not overpowering to the curls and swirls, but adding to them. Bilbo cast her gaze about the great room, which was lit by the warm but dim glow of the lamps all along the walls, and the ornate chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling. Everywhere she looked, there were guests from all over Arda, though the dwarves and hobbits were overwhelmingly represented, and tonight she had spoken to nearly all of them. Those she had not yet spoken with would soon remedy that if she did not act swiftly, and though she had enjoyed many of her previous encounters tonight, she would greatly appreciate the chance to be around someone with whom she might simply be herself for a time.

It had only been a year since she entered the public eye, and she was not yet accustomed to spending so much of her time under such stringent scrutiny.

Finally, she caught sight of her target – one of the tallest figures in the room, made taller by his rather ridiculous hat. She took a sip of her Champaign, enjoying the way the bubbles popped over her tongue, and then she headed towards her mother’s old friend, taking every advantage of her small stature, and a figure which was slightly slimmer than that of many of her hobbit peers, by weaving and dodging between those in attendance.

Though she slipped into the chair at Gandalf’s side as silently and unobtrusively as she was able, Gandalf did not startle, and Bilbo was not disappointed, as she had not expected him to do so. He merely released another in a long series of smoke rings and asked, “And how are you enjoying your reception, my dear?”

She huffed a soft laugh. “Oh, well enough, I suppose. I’d enjoy it better if Fili had not been spirited away by the nobles. Honestly, a wedding reception is no place for politics.”

“My dear Bilbo, you have married the Crown Prince. I do believe that every place is now a place for politics.”

Rolling her eyes, she tipped her head in acknowledgement. “At least I can comfort myself with having married the prince, rather than the king.” Giving him an ironic look, she asked, “Speaking of which, have I ever ‘thanked’ you for that little trick? Or for your many other matchmaking attempts?”

His lips twitched beneath his beard. “Whatever do you mean, my attempts? I consider those dates successes, every one of them. They did, after all, lead you here.”

She could feel her eyebrows cinching together. “Yes, I suppose they did, though through no effort of your own.”

“Oh?”

Bilbo found she did not care for the knowing look in his eyes. It had infuriated her as a child, and it still never failed to do so now. “Yes, ‘oh’,” she replied, both wary and more than a little testy. “Fili and I found each other quite on our own.”

“If you say so, my dear.”

She sighed, because she would have no peace until she gave in and asked him to explain whatever it was he currently felt so smug about. Infuriating wizard. “And how, exactly, do you suppose you brought this about?”

“Do you honestly suppose I would have sent you on a date with someone I knew would never care for you as you deserved, if I did not have some other, grander scheme at work?”

With a droll look, Bilbo told him, “I have nine failed first dates and one canceled second date which would suggest it, yes. If you are trying to convince me otherwise, Gandalf, you might as well just come out with it now.”

He did not appear the least bit bothered by her irritation, which was irritating enough in its own right. If she was going to be annoyed by him at her own wedding reception, she rather thought he deserved to share in her fate.

Gandalf did not comply immediately, choosing instead to take another long pull at his pipe and to release the best smoke ring yet. When at last he replied, he told her, “It was I who arranged for the wager which led Fili to work in that bar, and I who suggested Thorin name that place as the location for your second date, at which I knew he would never appear.”

She stared at him wordlessly for several long moments, and then she shook her head, expelling a long stream of air through slightly pursed lips. “So, all those horrible dates, everything – it was all part of some elaborate plan to get Fili and I together? Why didn’t you just send me on a date with him in the first place? There are a lot of wasted hours of my life that I cannot get back, thanks to you.”

“And there are equally as many which you spent in Fili’s company, not as a prospective match, but as a dear friend, and that sort of relationship forms the strongest marriages of all, wouldn’t you say?”

Before she could come up with something suitably biting, her favorite voice broke in from behind her. “Excuse me, but I finally got away from the vultures, and I would very much like to have a dance with my wife before they try to sink their talons into me again.”

She turned and stood with an uncontainable smile on her lips. “Fili! I was sure after they stole you away that I wouldn’t see you again for the rest of the night.”

He held out his hand to her and she took it firmly in her own, fully intending to keep hold of him until it was time for them to depart for their honeymoon – and even then, she had every hope of not letting him go until their honeymoon ended, and it was time to rejoin the rest of the world. “I think I’m insulted,” Fili teased mildly as he led her over to a patch on the ballroom floor with enough space for the two of them to join the couples already twirling about. “To think my own wife does not believe me capable of escaping a few long-winded, self-important busybodies.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said facetiously. “How ever shall I make it up to you?”

“I think dancing with me for the rest of the night should be sufficient recompense for the wound to my pride,” he replied, trying, and failing, to keep a straight face.

“Well, if it will make _you_ feel better…”

“It certainly would.”

They moved about together quietly for a time, simply enjoying holding onto each other and listening to the music. The song was of dwarven origin, and Bilbo found, as she had repeatedly in the year since she had moved her life to Esgaroth, which was a cultural center for dwarves, Men, and elves, that she quite liked the music of her husband’s people, with its driving drumbeats and innovative uses of string instruments.

“So,” Fili said eventually, “what was Gandalf saying that had you so agitated?”

She thought about telling him everything Gandalf had revealed but decided against it. Maybe she would tell him someday, but not now. Not tonight. Tonight was their night, and even if Gandalf truly had been so deliberate in his plans, she and Fili had been the ones to do the real work which had led them here. They had been the ones who had to adjust to sharing their relationship with the public, and to being around Fili’s family, and to all the changes, great and small, which had come along with uprooting her life from the Shire and moving to this part of the world permanently. She had not been easy to deal with at times, and Fili had been incredibly patient through it all, her strong, steady, stone-born love.

Shaking her head, she told him, “Nothing important, really. Just – being a wizard, as usual.”

“Smug, all-knowing, and annoyingly cryptic?”

“All of those things at once, yes.”

“Your friends are very strange.”

“That’s supposed to be my line,” Bilbo reminded him, raising a teasing eyebrow. “You can’t just go stealing my lines.”

“So, what are you going to do about it?” he challenged lightly.

She tugged him closer and stood on top of his boots, pushing up onto her toes. “Something quite terrible,” she informed him.

“Oh, dear. However will I survive?”

“Well, I’m told you dwarves are made of rather hardy stuff. I’m sure you’ll make it through somehow,” she replied, and then she pressed her lips to his own, ignoring irritating wizards, the flashes of the press’s cameras, and the numerous guests they were obligated to invite. They would keep. In this moment, she and Fili were the only ones that mattered.


	6. A Debt Redeemed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Fili Friday, lovelies!
> 
> This one is inspired by Ruth 4: 7-8: I've been playing with this idea for several weeks now, and decided to finally go ahead and get it down on paper. This takes the verses slightly out of context, as Boaz was following the principle of levirate marriage when he took Ruth as his wife, which you can read about here https://rsc.byu.edu/es/archived/our-rites-worship-latter-day-saint-views-ritual-history-scripture-and-practice/ceremony if you'd like, but the end result is the same.

The wind was frigid against the exposed flesh of his face and hands, but Fili felt hot all over as he stared at the tableau unfolding before him and more than half the people of the East. A tiny woman dangled helplessly from the hands of his uncle, who was currently not his uncle, and hadn’t been since he left Kili behind in Lake-town. Her face grew ruddy and then began to darken to a sickly purple, and her tiny legs and large, hairy feet flailed as she struggled to break free.

He made the decision in an instant, before one heartbeat turned into another.

“Uncle!” he called sharply, bending down to remove his right boot, uncaring of the risk that he might develop frostbite if his foot stayed in contact with the icy stone for too long, even with his thick double layer of woolen socks.

Rising as his uncle-not-uncle’s gaze turned from the woman who was still dangling from his hands, he tossed the boot at the older dwarf’s feet, declaring, “I purchase Belladonna Baggins’s debt with my share of the treasure. On my honor as a son of Durin, let my share redeem her own.”

The dwarf wearing his uncle’s face stared at Fili, his eyes vacillating between clear and clouded, and finally he demanded, his voice harsh, “Do you know what it is you do?”

“Aye, Your Majesty. I am aware.” To prove this, he ordered pointedly, “Now, release my wife to me – and do it gently.”

Bilbo continued to make weak little strangled noises as not-Thorin considered Fili, perhaps questioning his resolve, but as her blue eyes began to roll back into her head, he pulled her small body, which had finally gone worryingly slack and still, back to the safe solidity of the parapet. He laid her at Fili’s feet, took up the boot Fili had thrown down, and then turned back to face the horde of Men, woodland elves, and the dwarves from the Iron Hills. “The debt of the burglar has been redeemed. The Men of Lake-town will have their gold, and there will be no war this day.” Every word had to be forced from his lips, and there was no denying the cold fury behind them.

“And what of the white gems?” Thranduil called, apparently unaffected by the display at the gates.

“It was not you to whom the burglar delivered the Arkenstone, and so you will receive nothing. But I do not believe the Men of Lake-town will stand with you now that they will have the gold they seek.” He stared down at Bard with an iron frost in his gaze.

Bard appeared torn, straining to look behind the new King Under the Mountain, and he asked, “What of the fate of the hobbit?”

“She is beyond your concern now, bowman. Will you stand with the king of the woodland realm, even with your prize? Think carefully. Winter is coming, and you will need gold and allies to rebuild.”

Girion’s heir gave up trying to catch sight of Bilbo and declared with a conflicted look, “The people of Lake-town will not stand against you.”

“A wise choice.” He turned away from the crowd and stared down at the crumpled form of Belladonna Baggins, called Bilbo. Lifting one foot, he prepared as if to kick her in the ribs.

Though he ached to stand between them, though his hands trembled for his blades, Fili’s voice was mild when he said, “I wouldn’t. You know the law as well as I. As the wife of one of your kin, you are bound to protect her. Kicking her doesn’t exactly fall within that purview.”

For a moment Thorin-not-Thorin’s face spasmed, but still he lowered his foot under Fili’s determinedly dispassionate gaze. Then he turned and strode from the gates calling for several of the other dwarves gathered to follow him so that they might begin assembling the first portion of gold promised to the Men of Lake-town.

As soon as they were gone, Fili rushed to where Bilbo lay, gathering her up in his arms. Her pulse was faint and thready when he checked it, and already, her neck was beginning to bruise vividly. Standing smoothly, unaffected by her negligible weight, he stance was uneven upon the stone, with one foot still booted and the other slightly raised on the ball to account for the lack.

His little brother came up to him with an anxious and slightly dark look on his usually genial face. Clapping him on the shoulder, he said, “Since I doubt anyone else will think to say it, congratulations, brother. Now, let’s get you and your bride inside and see if we can get her to come around.” He glanced down at Fili’s feet. “And we should probably find you another set of boots.”

It was a relief when they reentered the mountain, which sheltered them from the biting wind, at least. They avoided the treasury and the other halls the Company had frequented since retaking Erebor, seeking out the living quarters instead. They found a series of homes which had been abandoned with the main entrance still left open, and they chose one that appeared the least disturbed by the flight from Smaug all those years ago.

Kili found one of the bedrooms and beckoned Fili forward. “This should be fine, don’t you think?”

There was a bed that must have been made meticulously on the morning of the attack, and though it had obviously gathered a multitude of dust in the years following, it looked sturdy and comfortable. They would see about cleaning the place up once they knew how Bilbo fared. “Aye, I do.” He strode into the room and placed Bilbo upon the mattress, brushing a bit of hair out of her face.

Watching him, Kili asked, “Do you love her, Fee?”

Did he? He studied the small, pale face, framed by wild dark curls which sprawled upon the pillow beneath her head. Was that what had compelled him to save her? He cared for Bilbo a great deal, as he cared for everyone in the Company, and he admired her for her seemingly endless well of courage and kindness upon the quest when she would have been well within her right to decide that the plight of Fili’s people had naught to do with her. Yet he did not think himself in love with her. “Not yet.”

“But someday?” Kili pressed, sounding hopeful. “I’m glad you saved her. I – I don’t know if I could have done what you did, even if I had thought of it.”

Fili dragged his eyes away from Bilbo and turned to face his little brother. “No one would have expected you to, Kili,” he said, placing his hand upon Kili’s shoulder in reassurance. “You’ve already given your heart to another.” He glanced back towards the still figure upon the bed. Something _did_ tug at his heart in that moment, and it gave him hope for the future. “As I will one day give Bilbo mine.” Perhaps she would even learn to love him in return, though he would never expect it. If the friendship that had grown between them was all he would ever receive from his wife, he would be content. Many a marriage was built around such bonds, and many a royal marriage was built around far less.

His little brother responded by shrugging off his hand so that he could wrap his arm around Fili’s shoulders and knock their temples together lightly. “I’m proud of you, Fee.”

The words startled and warmed him in turn. Growing up, Fili had spoken similar things to Kili many a time as his little brother learned and worked to mature into the fine young dwarf he was now, but rarely had Kili expressed such sentiments to Fili. It was not, he knew, because his little brother did not feel proud of him, but because Kili had always looked up to him and did not seem to realize that Fili might sometimes need to hear praise for his accomplishments as much as Kili did.

Fili wrapped his own arm around his brother’s shoulder in return and pressed a light kiss to his cheek the way he had done when Kili was little and no one else was around to tuck him in at night. “Thank you, Kee.”

They kept vigil over Bilbo silently for a few moments and then Kili asked, “Uncle will come around, won’t he? He won’t always be so consumed by the gold sickness, right?”

“No, he won’t be,” Fili said grimly, feeling it in his bones. Something would shake the King Under the Mountain free of this curse, even if that something had to be Fili delivering a sharp punch to his gold-addled skull.

The figure upon the bed took a deep, shuddering breath and then began to cough awful, wracking coughs, turning over weakly to dampen the sound in the pillow, likely out of fear that any noise would draw unwanted attention to herself, and she would find herself once again dangling from a height.

Fili and Kili drew away from each other, Fili towards the coughing, gasping form of his wife, and Kili calling out over his shoulder, “I’ll go and fetch her some water and find Oin. I’ll be right back.”

When he reached the bed, Fili placed a hand upon Bilbo’s trembling shoulder, and he felt her flinch. “Easy! Easy, Bilbo, it’s just me. Just Fili.” Carefully, he turned her over and moved to sit behind her upon the bed, supporting her small frame as she continued to try and clear her throat of an obstruction that was no longer there. One of her shaking hands raised to feel at her abused neck, and Fili caught it gently. “Best not,” Fili warned gently. “At least wait until Oin can have a look at it.”

“Wha-what,” she rasped, and then tried again, “What happened? I thought -”

She’d thought that she was going to die, Fili filled in, not needing her to tell him. Anyone would have thought the same, dangling helplessly from those strong hands. His uncle’s hands. “Aye, I know what you thought, lass. I’m sorry you came to harm at my uncle’s hands.”

At the mention of Thorin, Bilbo twitched. “Where is he?” she asked in her newly scratchy voice, darting her head about as though expecting him to appear at any moment.

“Nowhere near here,” Fili assured her. “At the moment, Kili and I are the only ones who know where you are.”

Her body relaxed at that, sinking back against Fili’s chest, before she stiffened again and asked, “Fili, ah, not that I’m ungrateful for the help, but isn’t this, hmm - slightly improper?”

Fili took a long, deep breath. “When Oin has seen to you, there are some things I should explain. One thing, really.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to tell me now? Who knows when we’ll have time alone like this again?”

“You’d be surprised,” Fili said wryly. Technically, if all was as it should be, he and Fili would be attending a wedding feast put together by his family, and then they would set off for their wedding night. But as had often been the case since their journey began, things were not at all as they should be.

She patted him on the knee gently. “Why don’t you try me? If I’ve learned anything on this quest, it is that I am made of far sterner stuff than I ever suspected.”

“If you’re sure?”

“Quite sure.”

He rested his head atop hers and asked, “Did any of us ever explain the different ways that debts may be settled among my people?”

Bilbo was quiet for a moment, and then she shook her head, though she was kind enough not to dislodge Fili’s with the motion. “No, I can’t say that you did.”

“Well,” he began to explain slowly, “there are a few ways a debt may be redeemed. One of them is…”


	7. A Debt Redeemed, Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follows directly after A Debt Redeemed, which may be found in Chapter Six of this work. This part is a good bit shorter, but it's important for the story. 
> 
> Happy Fili Friday, everyone!

Chattel. She actually asked him if in redeeming her debt, Fili had made her _chattel_.

He forced himself to pause and take several breaths, keeping the fact that, in spite of the many months she had spent among them, she was not a dwarf, and therefore could not know how great the offense was that she offered, at the forefront of his thoughts. Then he lifted his head from atop hers and carefully repositioned her so that she sat sideways against him, with one of his arms around her shoulders. This way, he could still support her body if her cough returned, but they could also look each other in the eye.

“No, Bilbo,” he said finally, as her wide eyes stared up at him, visibly startled by the change in position, as well as whatever she saw in his face, though he was doing his best to keep his expression neutral. “You are not my mistress, you are not my servant, and you are most certainly not _chattel_. You are my wife. When a dwarf pays the debt of a dam or her family for her sake, it is considered the bride price- “ he felt her shift and saw her nostrils flare, and he carried on swiftly to prevent whatever she intended to say from further souring the moment, “which is something dwarves offer to a dam’s family because we know that in entrusting one of their daughters to us, they are giving up something that is precious above all else, and will be dearly missed.”

“Precious,” she sputtered, sounding baffled. “I suppose your dams must be, given how rare they are, but it is not so among hobbits, and it certainly has not been the case for me. My parents adored me, but they died when I was a tween, and after that I could rely only upon myself, because the rest of my family surely would not do it for me. I was always too odd – too much like my mother and father both to belong in either the Took or Baggins clans. I had to fight tooth and nail to keep my home and my inheritance, and when I did, I fought alone. I am precious to no one.”

It made Fili’s gut churn to think of a young Bilbo forced to face the world without a single friend at such a young age. _Never again_, he swore to himself. She was his to protect, and Kili, their mother, and Thorin would be obligated to protect her as well, though he knew that Kili would do so whether the law demanded it or no, and that Thorin would once he was no longer under the treasure’s thrall. Their mother, he suspected, would quickly come to care about Bilbo as much as Fili and Kili did, both because of all that Bilbo had done for the dwarves of Erebor, and because in spite of what Bilbo might believe, the hobbit lass had a way of endearing herself to everyone she met.

With his free hand, he threaded his fingers through her own, and he gazed down into her upturned face earnestly. “Hear me now, Bilbo Baggins: I may not have married you because I was in love with you, but I did marry you because you are my friend, and that is a rare thing, indeed. You have no idea how difficult it is to find such a loyal, honorable friend as you have proven yourself to be for an heir to the throne – even amongst a people in exile. Growing up, Kili and I had to learn the hard way that almost everyone’s friendship comes at a price. But yours doesn’t. You have been a friend to me and a boon to my people. Rest assured, you are precious to me.”

Her bottom lip trembled, and after murmuring a timorous, “Thank you,” she bit down into the delicate flesh, presumably to put a stop to its telling motion. Fili averted his eyes when he realized he was staring, not wishing to make her uncomfortable, or to imply that he expected anything from her.

Intimacy would come with time, he was sure. For now, Bilbo needed to rest and to heal, and they both needed to come to terms with their marriage. Beyond that, Fili did not feel at liberty to let his guard down in such a manner when the Company was at such a tentative détente with the Men and the elves of this region, nor whilst Thorin was still consumed by the gold sickness.

“It’s the truth,” he told her softly. “You never have to thank me for that.”

“Oh, but I do. You cannot know how much hearing that means to me.” She dipped her head, studying their clasped hands. “And I am grateful for what you have done, Fili, though I am sure it does not seem that way. You saved my life, and I will never be able to repay you for that.”

Disentangling their hands gently, he reached up to cup the side of her face, turning her to face him again. “Saving your life was the least I could do after everything that you have done for me and mine. But if you feel that you must repay me somehow, all I can ask is that you trust me and share the rest of your life with me.”

“I do trust you. And I rather think sharing my life with you is a given at this point, given that you married me in front of the rest of the Company and the entire military might of Mirkwood and Lake-town, whether they recognized the significance of your actions or not.”

Fili shook his head. “There is a difference between accepting your fate and embracing it, Bilbo. I would have us build a life together. To be each other’s strength and support, as Mahal intended.”

She gazed at him for a time in silence, and he waited for her patiently, knowing that she needed to be able to make this decision without feeling rushed or pressured in any way. Finally, she turned her head in his hand and placed a soft kiss to his palm. “I think we can do that.”


	8. In a land far, far away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Cinderella AU nobody asked for but got anyway.
> 
> Happy Fili Friday, lovelies! I hope you all had a very Merry Christmas, and in case I don't get to post anything until afterwards, that you'll have a Happy New Year. :)
> 
> I'm not even going to panic, even though we're just days away from 2020. Nope. Because it's Fili Friday, and how can things be scary on Fili Friday? They can't. It's a rule.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ETA: I was so exhausted by the time I finished this... around 3:00 am... whoops! I forgot to include the song Bilbo sings. It's _The Dragon Song_ from _Pete's Dragon_.

_"_

_Go north, go north with wings on your feet._  
_Go north with the wind where the three rivers meet,_  
_There's a clearing of sorts in the circle of trees,_  
_Where the wild constellations shine one, two, and three._

_Look all around you and see:_  
_Deep in the forest, there dragons will be._

_They come from the earth, yes, they come from the stone._  
_The icy cold north, that's where they call home._  
_Go where the mountain kisses the sea:_  
_Better be brave, far braver than me._

_Look all around you and see:_  
_Deep in the forest, there dragons will be._

_If a dragon should find you, you might ought to run._  
_No one has lived through such a run in, not one._  
_So if you hear a roar, goodness sake, leave them be,_  
_Up where you find them wild and free."_

Another coin dropped into her gaping purse and she gifted her newest donor with a grateful smile as she sang the next verse. Still more coins followed, and Bilbo’s heart swelled with thankful affection for the kind people of Bree as she assessed the slowly growing collection of money. This should be plenty to purchase food she could hide away from her stepmother and stepsisters, and enough fabric to make a few more modern embellishments to her mother’s wedding dress, and perhaps even to buy something fetching for her hair, as well.

She reached the final verse and glanced up to meet the most beautiful pair of blue eyes she had ever seen, framed by golden eyebrows and a mane of shining blonde hair tamed only by several neat braids, as would be expected from a dwarf. Bilbo found herself quite arrested, and only managed to finish the song by sheer force of will.

As the small crowd gathered around her clapped, she curtsied and dragged her gaze away from those ocean-blue eyes in order to direct her thanks towards all who had expressed their appreciation for her performance. Many of them were regulars – those who knew the days she could be expected to appear in town with a list of items her stepmother demanded that she fetch and bring home to Bag End. The Men and hobbit lads who wore hats tipped them to her and the few dwarves offered her bows.

Rather than straighten immediately after her curtsy, she chose to sink down to the cobblestones to retrieve her purse. A calloused hand at her wrist halted her movement, and an entire stack of coins joined the rest before the owner of the hand used it to help guide her back to her feet.

Dazed, she stared down at the money in her purse, which had more than doubled in mere moments.

“A bold choice for finale, when the coming festival is being held to honor Durin’s folk for reclaiming the mountain.”

When she looked up, she found the eyes of the dwarf who had so captivated her earlier staring down into her own. “Oh,” she said, feeling caught off-guard, which always tended to render her rather ineloquent before she regained her usual canniness. “I meant no offense, truly. It is a song I have sung since childhood, and no one has offered any objections…” Her voice trailed off when he held up his hand.

“Please, my lady,” he said, “do not be anxious. I meant only to tease you, not to alarm you.”

“And so your teasing continues,” Bilbo noted dryly, gesturing to her plain, worn clothing, which had been patched and mended so many times that the original fabric was barely visible beneath the different pieces holding her dress and bodice together. “Surely you can see that I am no lady.”

He shook his head. “My people know far better than most, my lady, that our circumstances may change, but our hearts remain the same. Durin’s folk lived in poverty for many years before the defeat of Smaug, but those of Durin’s line held true to their lineage.”

“So, you are one of the dwarves of Erebor, then?” She had wondered, since she had never seen a dwarf of his like in Bree before. Certainly, dwarves came and went from this town, but none of them had ever affected her the way he had. She would have remembered it if her heart had ever fluttered so wildly in her chest as it did now, and she certainly would have remembered it if someone had decided to be so generous in his appreciation. There were stories of a group of dwarves, extremely loyal to the royal line of Erebor, who had gone with King Thorin to reclaim the Lonely Mountain. Perhaps she was looking at one of them even now, and that was why he was so free with his coins.

“I am.” He bowed to her deeply. “Fili, son of Vili, at your service.”

She curtsied back. “Bilbo Baggins, at yours and your family’s.”

“Are you coming to the festival, Miss Baggins?”

“I hope so, Master Fili.”

“As do I.” He bowed to her once more and then said regretfully, “If you’ll excuse me, my lady, I am afraid I am expected and I’ve tarried too long as it is.”

“Yes, of course. Ah, thank you, sir. You were very generous.”

He gave her a warm smile. “It’s no more than a performance like that deserves. Good day, Miss Bilbo.”

“Good day,” she echoed, feeling her heart sink as she watched him walking away. She shook her head at herself and secured her purse at her hip, pulling out the list of goods she must obtain for her stepmother before she could even think of buying anything for herself. She had learned the hard way over the years to never forget a single thing on her stepmother’s list, which might happen if she allowed herself to be distracted.

Still, although she had obligations, she was away from Bag End and the constant demands of her stepmother and stepsisters. For now, she was free, at least to a certain degree, and she would not waste this time away from Bag End by dwelling on unpleasant memories, nor pining after a dwarf she had only just met, and who would likely never return to this part of the world after the festival.

The festival was Erebor’s way of thanking those in the West who had maintained a good rapport with the people of the Lonely Mountain while they were in exile, as well as a celebration of the start of the migration back to the East. The denizens of the Shire may not see much sense in venturing beyond their borders, but they had been willing enough to allow the dwarves who dwelled in Ered Luin to come and ply their trades and purchase their surplus crops as the need arose, so long as they did not cause any trouble or express any desire to linger once their business was done.

It had been many years since Bilbo had been allowed to attend a festival, but every hobbit in the Shire had been invited. Hobbits loved a good festival, so the people of the Shire were certain to show up in force, and so in the event that she was forbidden from going, surely with so many hobbits in attendance, Bilbo could manage to avoid running into her stepmother and stepsisters.

She passed Mr. Butterbur, who gave her a genial nod and a grin before bustling away, muttering to himself about all of the things he needed to get done in order to accommodate the influx of people at the Prancing Pony, and she shook herself. “Stop your wool-gathering, Bilbo Baggins, and get the job done. The sooner you get your stepmother’s things, the sooner you can enjoy yourself.” She nodded once, determined, and set off at a brisk pace.

* * *

Once she reached Bag End, she snuck in through the front door on silent feet and slunk past the sitting room. She made for the cellar and stowed her own packages, as well as the coins left over from her day’s earnings, in the second cellar, which only Bilbo knew about. Her father had created it shortly after the Fell Winter that had claimed her dear mother, with the intention of storing extra food, but he had never told his second wife of its existence, and it had become a safe haven of sorts for his only daughter in the years after he passed away.

After her things were secure, Bilbo closed her eyes and took a steadying breath, and then she returned to the smial proper, going to let her stepmother know that she had returned. Her stepmother looked up at her from behind a hand of cards. “Well?” she asked, raising a stringently arched eyebrow.

“They had everything you asked for, ma’am.”

“As it should be.” She waved her hand in dismissal. “I shall expect tea in an hour.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Bilbo took her leave of the parlor, which was full of overly quaffed and painted hobbit ladies, who had grown so accustomed to her drab attire that they hardly even twittered or so much as glanced in her direction anymore. It was a relief to have an excuse to shut herself up in the kitchen.

She prepared tea, and once she had delivered the tea tray to the parlor, she returned to the kitchen to begin working on dinner. After that was supper, and then she had to clean the dishes, tidy up the parlor, and touch up on the dusting and mopping around the smial.

Finally, after her chores were done, Bilbo returned to the hidden cellar and went to her mother’s glory box. She pulled out her mother’s wedding gown, a dreamy confection of white silk and tulle and lace, and she went to hold it up against herself only to stop at the sight of her own dress, grimy from travel and housework. She set her mother’s gown aside with reverence and stripped out of her bodice, skirt, and chemise. Then she checked her hands to be sure that they had not gathered any dirt or soot and picked her mother’s gown up once more. Going to stand before the rusted mirror, she studied herself with a critical eye.

She was far too skinny to fill out her mother’s gown as it was. Some alterations were definitely in order, and she was certain she could never be brave enough to wear a neckline so low, so she would need to add a bit of fabric there, and perhaps some of the lace she found in Bree would make her feel less conscious of her rather coltish legs and embarrassingly small feet – for a hobbit lass, at least.

Pulling out needle and thread, Bilbo sat down on a low stool and set to work.

* * *

Of course Petunia had forgotten her shawl, and of course she had darted back inside Bag End just as Bilbo was about to depart for the festival. She stared down at the tattered mess of her mother’s wedding gown and wept bitterly in a way she had not allowed herself to do since her father died of a heart attack and her stepmother showed Bilbo how loveless the rest of her life would be.

It had been beautiful. _She_ had been beautiful, or she had felt that way, at least, until Petunia had flown into a jealous, hysterical rage and tore at all the delicate white fabric. “What made you think you’d be welcome among respectable Shire folk anyway?” she’d demanded in her shrill, nasal tones. When she had finished, she’d drawn away and straightened her own, bright pink monstrosity of a dress and flattened her hair. “I’m telling mother about this, Bilbo. When she hears about it, you won’t see the sun for a week, and you definitely won’t be attending any festivals.”

Then the harridan had flounced out the front door, leaving Bilbo in a disconsolate heap on the entryway floor.

“Here, now, what’s this? I’m looking for someone to go to a festival,” a deep voice declared, and Bilbo’s head jerked up in horror. It was bad enough that she had been so thoroughly reduced. She could not bear the idea of someone else seeing her this way.

Her eyes landed upon an old grey cloak, and Bilbo followed the long line of it until she reached the bottom of a beard, which led to a wizened face, all of which sat under the cover of a tall, pointed hat. He had a strange staff and eyes that seemed to see everything and nothing at the same time. “Excuse me, sir, but all the residents of this smial who are attending the festival have already left. I’m afraid you just missed them.”

The Man knelt down and reached out to clasp her much smaller hands in his own. “And why should you not also attend this festival, hmm? It is my understanding that everyone in the Shire has been invited.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be blunt, but look at me. I am not fit to be seen anywhere, let alone at Erebor’s victory festival.”

“Hmm,” he mused, examining her mother’s wedding gown. “Yes, I see what you mean. We’ll just have to fix that, won’t we?”

With a wet laugh, Bilbo said, “Sir, I would love to, but I’m afraid I really don’t see how.”

He smiled. “Leave that to me.”

* * *

Her mother’s wedding gown was so no longer. Somehow, the wizard – for that was what Gandalf, who had eventually introduced himself as one of her mother’s old friends, had said that he was – had changed the dress from snow white to a dark, rich blue. Gone were the layers of tulle and lace, replaced by long, simple yet elegant lines of velvet which lay over several petticoats and floated just above her feet.

About her head, her hair had been braided as if it were a crown, with the thinnest bands of a metal the color of silver, but brighter, somehow, woven into the braid. Upon those bands were dozens of sapphires and diamonds, and at her neck hung a choker made of the same sort of metal, with a single, fairly sizeable sapphire resting at the base of her throat.

The finishing touch was, apparently, a set of shoes, and Bilbo had balked. “There’s simply no way that my feet will fit, Gandalf. And even if they did, I wouldn’t know the first thing about how to walk in them. I’m sorry to disappoint you after everything you’ve done this evening, but it can’t be done.”

Gandalf drew himself up, finally losing patience with the argument which had been ongoing for the better part of fifteen minutes, now. “Bilbo Baggins, if I say that the shoes will fit, then fit they will!”

She let out a squeak and then nodded, her eyes wide as she hastened to try and slip on the shoes – only to stop and stare down at her feet in consternation when they fit perfectly. A tiny set of jewel-encrusted slippers now sat snugly about her feet, which no longer looked like her feet at all. For one thing, they were farther away than they used to be, and for another, they were entirely without hair. “Gandalf,” she cried, “what have you done?”

“Calm yourself, Bilbo, my dear. The moment you remove the shoes, you will look like yourself again. Until then, you will look as you do now – a dwarven lady, though without one of those magnificent beards.”

“I’m a dwarf?” She reached up to feel her ears, and found that they were small and rounded at the top.

“Only so long as you wear the shoes, my dear, and even then, only until midnight. After that, the magic will fade.”

“And all will be as it was?” she asked, her voice small.

He gave her a considering look. “No, not all. But I believe that the changes shall be very good for you – and very gratifying for me. But come now, the festival will already be well underway. It is high time that you and I depart.”

He led her out of the entryway and toward the front lawn, upon which a most startling sight awaited her.

When she stopped, Gandalf said, “Come along now, Bilbo. Let us not keep Gwaihir waiting.”

She swallowed roughly, and would have turned right around and reentered Bag End, had it not been for the memory of Gandalf’s temper earlier. There was nothing for it, she supposed, and so she walked up to Gwaihir and allowed Gandalf to help her up onto the eagle’s back. She felt her stomach jump into her throat when the great eagle took flight, and spent the entirety of the short flight with her eyes firmly shut.

When Gwaihir landed, Gandalf slid off easily and helped Bilbo climb down to stand on shaky legs. She was surprised to note, however, that she had no difficulty staying on her feet. Glancing down at the beautiful shoes, she imagined she had Gandalf’s magic to thank for her unexpected grace on these strange little feet.

Looking around, Bilbo spied hundreds of hobbits eating and drinking and dancing, some beneath large tents the same shade of blue as her dress, some beneath the slowly setting sun. Merry music boomed in her ears, along with the sound of young faunts laughing and calling to each other. A thousand different shades and patterns of fabric overwhelmed her sight, and Bilbo nearly felt dizzy.

It was the most incredible thing she had ever seen.

Gandalf patted her on the back. “Now, then, if you’ll excuse me, I have fireworks to prepare.”

She craned her neck up to look at him frantically. “You’re leaving me?”

“Don’t fret, Bilbo. Eat, drink, find a handsome young lad to dance with. It is high time you have a bit of fun, and you can’t do that with an old man hanging about.”

“But-“

“Go on, my dear. I think you’ll find that you will surprise yourself. There is far more to you than even you know.”

With that, Gandalf was gone, and Bilbo was all alone in a sea of hobbits, dwarves, and Men – until someone came and stood beside her. “Excuse me, but have we met before?”

Bilbo turned and found herself at eyelevel with the dwarf she had met in Bree a few weeks ago. It was quite a shock to realize that she was almost as tall as he when wearing Gandalf’s mysterious slippers. “I think I would remember meeting you, sir,” Bilbo replied, surprising herself with her boldness. Perhaps Gandalf was right.

He blinked at her and then grinned, delighted. Holding out a hand, he asked, “Would you care to dance?”

Eyeing his hand, Bilbo remembered one of Gandalf’s instructions. Find a handsome young lad, indeed. She placed her hand in his. “I would.”

They danced until they were breathless, and then they took a break for some punch which Bilbo strongly suspected some of her Took relatives had spiked. There was plenty of wine and ale to go around as well, but Bilbo was not quite thirty-three yet, and she knew that the older hobbits would look the other way if she drank the punch, which was supposed to be free of spirits even though they knew that it had been tampered with.

The punch made her feel pleasantly warm, and Fili eyed her before saying, “Let’s get some food in you so that whatever was in that punch doesn’t go to your head.”

Fili introduced her to all sorts of things she had never had before, though he seemed slightly puzzled by her ignorance of dwarven foods. “Where are you from, my lady?”

She finished chewing a spicy sort of sausage that made her taste buds sing and swallowed. “Somewhere that it is not as it once was, though I have hope that it will be restored again someday.”

He studied her carefully, seeming to truly hear what she was and was not saying, and admitted, “I know a little of what that’s like.”

“But you will have your home again,” she said, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. “And I hope very much that it will be everything you have ever dreamed it would be.”

His hand covered her own gently. “You truly mean that, don’t you?”

“Well, yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

Fili was quiet for a moment and then he said, “I’ve often found that the people I meet will say one thing when they mean another, or they will mean it only until they have something I can give them.”

“I don’t want anything from you – aside from another dance.”

His answering smile made her heart race. “Now, that’s an ulterior motive I can get behind.” He led her back out to the throng of dancing revelers and twirled her about, and they danced until their feet were tired and sore.

For their second break, Fili led Bilbo over towards the lake. “What are we doing over here?”

“Just wait,” Fili told her, anticipation clear in his voice. “There’s something you have to see.”

A few moments later, a blazing ball of light shot up into the air, and Bilbo quaked for a moment before there was a loud clap, and the ball burst into a thousand tiny stars. She gasped and grabbed hold of Fili’s hand, gazing up in wonder as faint memories from her childhood played out behind her eyes.

Once upon a time, her grandfather had held birthday parties of particular extravagance, and Bilbo had attended each year with her hand held tightly in her mother’s, staring up into the night sky as a Man in a funny hat had lit the starry expanse with the most incredible fireworks.

A few tears slipped down her cheeks unbidden, and she tried to sniffle discreetly.

“Hey,” Fili whispered, turning her face toward him with gentle, calloused fingers and wiping her tears away. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” she said softly, sniffling again. “Just a memory – a happy one.”

His finger traced lightly across her chin, and his gaze flicked from her eyes to her lips, and she closed her eyes as he began to lean in, coming so close she could feel his breath ghosting over her face, before she came to her senses.

“Wait,” she said. “We shouldn’t.”

His ocean eyes were crestfallen for a moment before they cleared, and he nodded, releasing her. “You’re right. Please forgive me for being so forward.”

“No, there’s – there’s nothing to forgive. It’s just that, we hardly know each other, but it feels as though I’ve known you for a lifetime, and there are things that I want so badly to tell you, but I can’t, and I can’t kiss you when I feel so much for you – too much, really – and not tell you everything.”

“What if you could tell me? And what if I told you everything, too? I can’t explain it, but I feel as though I’ve known you forever as well, even though I don’t even know your _name_ – please, at least tell me your name.”

She bit her lip, taking in his earnest, pleading expression. “Belladonna. My name is Belladonna.” She’d been reduced to ‘Bilbo’ once her stepmother moved into Bag End with her horrid daughters, claiming that she did not wish to feel as though she lived with the spectre of her husband’s late wife.

“Belladonna,” Fili breathed. “What a beautiful name.” He tilted his head, his keen eyes sharpening as he thought. “Not a common name for a dwarrowdam, though.”

“Well, I’m probably not your typical dwarrowdam in most respects,” Bilbo told him weakly.

“That, I can believe,” Fili replied, his voice and gaze warm.

She felt as though she might get lost in that gentle affection, and so she forced herself to focus upon the sky above the lake, where Gandalf continued to awe the revelers with his magnificent fireworks. They stayed there by the lake until the very last one, a brilliant red in the shape of a dragon, headed straight toward them over the water, so lifelike that Bilbo and Fili both began to take hurried steps back before the firework exploded into millions of tiny points of light and smoke.

They grinned at each other in relief, and then Bilbo winced. Her slippers suddenly hurt, and not from the hours spent dancing. She let go of Fili’s hand and looked at him with fear before something strange happened. He’d begun to reach for her, worried by whatever he must have seen in her face, and she knew, without understanding why or how, that this was meant to happen, and it was enough.

She tore off the slippers and pressed one of them into his hand. “I’m sorry,” she told him, staring up from her usually diminutive height. “I know this must all seem crazy, but I love you. If you love me too, as I think you do, come and find me.”

With that, she picked up the tattered skirts of her mother’s dress and ran, faster than she had ever run before, Fili trying and failing to catch up to her, even with his much longer legs.

She ducked into the crowd, running right past her stepmother, who shrieked in fury at the sight of her and tried to grab hold of her arm. Bilbo shook her off and headed for the edge of the festival, where Gwaihir swooped down and scooped her up with surprising care into his talons before flying off towards Bag End. He deposited her upon the front lawn and gave her a regal nod before taking off into the night, and Bilbo let herself into the dark smial with shaking hands.

* * *

The door to the main cellar burst open, and Bilbo looked up with wide, hopeful eyes. There stood Gandalf and Fili, who held the slipper she’d given him in one hand and held his other hand out to her. Behind them were several other dwarves, one of whom was wearing what looked suspiciously like a crown.

Come to think of it, Fili also appeared to be wearing a crown, though far smaller and less ornate. It was more of a circlet, really.

Still intimidating, given the implications.

“Found you,” Fili said, watching as she scrambled to her feet and came forward to grip his hand, her other coming up to cup his cheek.

“I think I’m starting to figure out some of the things you wanted to tell me,” she replied, looking between his circlet and the tall, dark haired dwarf’s crown pointedly.

“I already know most of what you wanted to tell me. Gandalf has been unusually forthcoming since midnight last night.”

Gandalf grumbled at that, but Bilbo ignored him. “I suppose that means I can kiss you now.”

“Yes, I think so.”

Bilbo started to rise onto the balls of her feet, but Fili scooped her up into his arms instead. She raised her eyebrows at him, but all he did was shrug and offer her a cheeky grin.

Naturally, she had to kiss him then, if only to wipe that grin off his face.

She must not have done it quite right, because when she finally drew away, that cheeky grin came right back. Oh, well. She’d have the rest of her life to try and get it right – which is exactly what she did, quite happily ever after.


	9. Of Toil, Trouble, and Tookishness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For coldqueen5, who wished for a Harry Potter AU. This... probably isn't anything like what you were expecting, darling, but hopefully you'll like it anyway?
> 
> Happy Fili Friday, everyone!

Sharp bits of stone dug into her knees and blood seeped into the fabric of her pants. Beneath her hands and a softly whispered spell, armor and fabric parted as easily as butter to a hot knife. She pressed her fingers first to the skin at his neck, cursing when no soft beat rose steadily to meet her. Then she leaned down and put the side of her head over the place where a strong cadence should crash into her pointed ears, only to find a mocking emptiness.

Sitting up, she pointed her wand at that still chest and cast every healing spell she could remember, and some that she invented right there in the dirt and the muck, kneeling over the fallen form of her lover.

Nothing happened. No hint of life quickened in that still, steadily freezing form. With a furious cry, she cast her wand upon the earth and buried her face in blond, thick curls. “Fili? Fili? Please. Please, don’t be dead. I’ll do anything – anything, just name it – just please, you have to wake up. You have to come back to me.”

Still, he did not stir, and she let out a scream of rage, curling her hands into fists and beating them against his unmoving chest, covering herself in blood and gore and not caring a whit. “WAKE UP, YOU BASTARD! You _cannot leave me here!”_

Strong hands captured her about her waist, beginning to drag her away, and she shrieked and squirmed and called the one responsible every kind of foul name imaginable.

Through it all, Dwalin was implacable, carting her off the battlefield with nary a word; only silent, grim determination.

When they reached the safety of Erebor, Dwalin took her to Oin, and their Company’s healer forced a vile concoction down her aching throat.

She was out in minutes, and as much as she hated both of them in that moment for taking her away from her love, she was glad she had an excuse to avoid the rest of the world, at least for time.

When she opened her eyes twelve hours later, Fili’s ghost hovered at the foot of her bed, Kili’s right beside him. She glanced around for Thorin, hoping that at least if they had to be ghosts, they could all face this afterlife together.

Fili shook his head. “You won’t find him here, sweetheart. Thorin took back the mountain for our people. He did what he set out to do, and there was no reason for him to remain behind. He’s gone to the halls of our fathers.”

Her eyes welled with tears at this new, even more permanent loss, though she was grateful her friend managed to find peace, in the end. She reached out a hand towards Fili, and he hesitated for a moment before extending his hand towards hers in return.

His snow-white fingers passed straight through her palm, and Bilbo let out a keening wail even as Fili’s face fell and Kili tried to place his hand on his older brother’s shoulder.

Oh, this was cruel, indeed, to have him so near and so entirely out of her reach.

Turning over, Bilbo buried her face in the pillow she had shared with Fili as recently as two nights ago, and sought out a lungful of Fili’s scent, knowing that soon enough, even that tangible remnant would be lost, and all that she would have was his spirit.

As the coming years stretched out before her, she gave serious thought to seeking out the last of the orcs left from the battle. Surely they would not mind having a chance for revenge? She could end this right now, and never need to face a day where Fili’s arms could not hold her close, his lips could not kiss her own, his face could not press into the hollow between her neck and shoulder. Yes, that would be best. And if she could take a few more orcs out in the process, so much the better.

It was only the knowledge that Fili was hovering over her now, would know what she planned to do and find the nearest dwarves and see that they stopped her, that kept her lying upon their combined bedrolls.

Oin bustled in several moments later, the sounds of his arrival giving Fili and Kili enough time to slip away before the old healer could see them. Oin found her curled up in an inconsolable heap, and poured another one of his foul potions down her throat. She laid back down immediately after, determinedly hiding her face from Fili and Kili’s silvery forms, should they return, as though she could erase the truth by simply refusing to acknowledge it.

The darkness washed over her almost at once, and she welcomed it as she would welcome an old friend.

* * *

She met Frodo’s wide, puzzled blue eyes and whispered, “I wish you all a very fond farewell.” With a simple flick of her thumb, the ring slipped onto her finger, and her many guests and relations gasped in outrage and shock.

Amid the furor, Bilbo slipped silently over to stand before her heir, studying the gradually strengthening line of his jaw, the slowly broadening width of his shoulders which would never quite reach the breadth of most of his peers, the surprised but amused light in the eyes she knew all the lasses sighed over, even if they thought their owner rather odd. He was a fine, beautiful boy, and he was becoming a fine, beautiful man. She passed her fingers over his pale cheek ever-so-lightly, so that he might even imagine it was a breeze caressing his skin, and then she turned away and began to run back to Bag End.

Fili and Kili met her at the door, watching her with a mixture of amusement and disapproval as she let herself inside. “You use that ring far too lightly,” Fili told her.

“Oh, come off it,” Bilbo scoffed. “It’s just a pretty little trinket someone managed to cast a permanent disillusionment spell over. Hardly something to cluck over as you do.”

“I think you’ll find that Fili is right, my dear,” Gandalf broke in, appearing at the front door. “And since you intend to leave everything to Frodo, I believe the ring should go to him as well.”

“What does it matter?” Bilbo asked, beginning to feel defensive. Why did they both have to be so paranoid about her ring?

Kili floated closer to her, holding his hands up to show that he meant no harm – as though anything about him could harm her now, aside from the fact that her heart was still beating, and his had not done so for sixty years, nor had his older brother’s. “None of us want to upset you, Bilbo. We just don’t think the ring is good for you. Think about it – you’re a hundred and eleven today, and you don’t look a day over fifty-one. You know the cost of potions that grant youth and long life. Do you really think this ring is any different?”

“Well – well, what if it’s actually a relic from someone’s successful attempt at alchemy?” Bilbo asked hopefully, though knowing she was reaching. Even she did not believe the words coming out of her mouth. “Maybe it’s like a philosopher’s stone.”

“That’s odd. I don’t remember seeing you drinking any elixirs, do you remember seeing her do that, Kili? No? Didn’t think so. That thing is dangerous, and it’s time for you to let it go,” Fili said firmly, his tone more than enough evidence that he had lost patience with this argument, and he expected her to listen.

“But you’re perfectly fine with me leaving it to my nephew?” Bilbo demanded, starting to grow angry for a different reason. If she could not handle the ring, as these three insisted, then surely Frodo would not be able to handle it either, and she refused to leave something that might be dangerous behind for the lad who had become like a son to her in the years since she had taken him in. Frodo was the light of her life. If they honestly thought she would just –

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Fili told her. “I love that boy just as much as you do. And anyway, Kili will stay and keep an eye on Frodo, and the minute things start to go wrong, he’ll come and find us. Frodo is due to start his schooling in Rivendell next fall, which should give you both time to adjust to him having the ring. Now,” he said deliberately, coming to float right in front of her, kneeling to bring himself down to eye-level, which she grudgingly appreciated. He knew how she hated it when he hovered. “Let the ring go.”

Her hand clenched around it in a tight fist, the cool metal digging into the flesh of her palm and fingers.

“Listen to Fili, Bilbo,” Gandalf said, stepping closer.

She shrank back, bringing her hand up to clutch the ring to her chest protectively. “Why are you pushing me so on this? How do I know you aren’t just siding with him so you can take the ring for yourself the moment I leave?”

“Bilbo, do you hear yourself?” Kili pleaded. “This isn’t you. You sound like uncle did before we broke the curse Smaug left on the gold.”

“And I do hope you aren’t about to accuse me and Kili of having designs on the ring,” Fili said, looking at his translucent form pointedly.

Her lips trembled. “Please don’t joke about it.”

Fili’s gaze softened, and he drifted closer, floating up to place an icy kiss upon her brow. It had taken her years to grow accustomed to that frigid touch, in place of the warmth he had radiated when he was still alive, but now she welcomed it, closing her eyes and pressing into the kiss further. “Forgive me, love. I’m not trying to hurt you. None of us are.” He wrapped his hands about hers where it held the ring as best as he could. “Please, sweetheart. Let it go.”

It was the ‘please’ that got to her.

Fili asked for so little from her – even when he was alive, he had almost never requested anything, aside from that incident with the trolls, simply giving and giving and behaving as though he did not expect anything in return. It had bewildered her in the early days, because what could a young, handsome, cocksure dwarf prince want with an introverted, bumbling, anxious little spinster hobbit lass like her? Fili was nothing if not persistent, though, and by the time he and the rest of the dwarves were trapped in the dungeons of the Woodland Realm, Bilbo had been quite thoroughly won over.

Hearing him say ‘please’ now was utterly unfair, as she was quite unprepared to resist him when he asked her so sweetly. There was no way she could leave Bag End with the ring now.

She sniffled, but gradually, inch by creeping inch, she pulled her fist away from her chest and held it out, away from her. When she could stretch her arm out no further, she stared at her tightly balled hand and willed it to open.

* * *

It started like this:

She sat in her garden one fine April morning, innocent as you please, and lo and behold, Gandalf appeared, looking for someone to go on an adventure.

Her pipe fell out of her mouth as she gaped at him, which was quite attractive, to be sure.

“Billywig juice.”

Much to her chagrin, it was not, in fact, billywig juice at all.

Oh, no. Instead, it was dwarves invading her smial and raiding her larder. It was nights spent on ground warmed and softened only by the spells she cast, and days flying over fields and forests and valleys. It was befuddling three trolls and a reunion with Radagast, Lord Elrond, and Glorfindel and many of her other former professors, much of which she spent apologizing for the behavior of her companions. It was being forced to go on foot in the mountains because the weather was too foul for flight and nearly tumbling off the side of a cliff. It was fumbling around in a dark, dank cave until she could summon her wand into her hand to light her way, the white light of her spell glinting off a golden ring made beautiful by its simplicity. It was throwing herself between a monstrous pale orc and an exiled dwarven king, and flying upon the back of one of Manwë’s eagles.

It was becoming friends with a bear of a man and stumbling about in an angry, oppressive forest, and fighting spiders which were simply too big to be allowed. It was casting a point-me spell and searching through some of the most intricate wards she’d ever come across and rescuing all her dwarves from the halls of the most melodramatic elf Bilbo had ever had the misfortune to encounter. It was feeling guilty about compelling a barge man to sneak them into an old, decrepit town on a lake but doing it anyway. It was clumsily attempting to outsmart a dragon and aiming a piercing hex with frantic precision at the tiny chink in his armor.

It was long hours going through every counter-curse she could imagine to try and break her friend, her Company leader, her king, free of gold-sickness, and cutting a desperate deal with the leaders of the elves and Men of the East to try and save the dwarves who became her family entirely without her permission. It was going into battle when that was the last place a hobbit – even one trained as a witch – should ever be.

And it was falling so deeply in love that there was no way she would ever be able to resurface.

* * *

“Here, Miss Baggins. I’ve had my fill. Why don’t you finish what’s left? It’d be a shame for any of Bombur’s good food to go to waste.”

Bilbo blinked down at the bowl in her hands and then looked up at Fili uncertainly. “You’re full? Already? Are you feeling alright? You’re not coming down with something, are you?” She balanced the bowl in one hand, starting to reach for her wand so that she might cast a diagnostic spell.

Fili held up his hands. “I’m well, Miss Baggins, and yes, I am full. I believe I’m still recovering from that incredible feast we had at your home last night.”

Her ears twitched in irritation at the reminder. “Ah, yes. The feast.” She leveled him with a gimlet eye. “After which you tossed around my mother’s fine crockery. You should count yourself lucky I put unbreakable charms on all my dishware years ago. If I hadn’t, I would have hexed you on the spot.”

Rather than appearing threatened by this, Fili gave her a delighted, cocky grin, and Bilbo pursed her lips in a bid to avoid smiling back at him. Goodness, the lasses back in Ered Luin must have given in to his every whim with a smile like that, hung onto his every word.

Bilbo was far too old and mature to be swayed by such charms.

She _was_.

* * *

After checking over his little brother, Fili clucked and cooed over her worse than Belladonna Baggins ever did in the wake of all the scrapes Bilbo got up to as a faunt, making sure that Bilbo was none the worse for their bout of excitement with the trolls.

Bilbo bore up under his treatment with far more grace than she felt he deserved, especially since his actions landed her in danger in the first place, but eventually, she reached the limit of her patience. Pushing him away gently, she said, “I’m quite alright, Fili, thank you. Please don’t distress yourself on my account.”

Fili shrugged, appearing shy for the first time since he strutted into her smial several weeks ago. “I think my heart stopped when those trolls threatened to tear you in half, Miss Baggins. I’m glad you’re alright, but I wanted to apologize for sending you after the brooms like that. I should never have asked you to clean up the mess Kili and I made. I’m sorry.”

She studied him for a moment. He seemed truly repentant, and he obviously felt some measure of concern for her well-being. What harm could it do if she forgave him? “Just promise me you won’t ever do something like that again. I’m already planning to risk my life once we reach Erebor. I’d really rather avoid having to do so again between now and then, if it’s all the same to you.”

He sketched a low bow and when he straightened, his blue eyes bore into hers earnestly. “I give you my word.” Glancing toward where several of the others headed earlier, in search of the troll horde, Fili asked, “Would you like to see what the trolls left behind?”

Bilbo grimaced and waved him off. “No, thank you. I smell enough of troll as it is. I’ll just cast a few cleaning charms, summon myself a nice, cushy chair, and have a bit of a rest. But you should go and see if anything in there catches your fancy.”

“Are you sure?” Fili asked, eyeing her uncertainly, as though if he left her side for a moment, another trio of trolls would snatch her up in their ungainly, spell-resistant hands. “Someone probably cast a few air freshening spells. It might not be perfect, but it’s bound to be better than it was before.”

With a laugh that was half fondness and half exasperation, Bilbo assured him that she was. “Go on, Fili. I can tell that you want to. I’ll be quite alright.” She glanced at Dori and Ori, who elected to stay behind, along with Bombur and Bifur and Oin. “And even if something does happen, I won’t be alone.”

He hesitated for one more moment before offering her another, much shallower bow and then he followed after the more adventurous members of the Company.

* * *

Elvish chamber music suited dwarven sensibilities quite poorly, and Bilbo was frustrated with her old professors and her new friends alike. Neither side had made any real effort to cross the divide between their two races, and she had half a mind to jinx the whole lot.

A jelly-legs jinx would serve all of them right, and it would be incredibly amusing for her, especially since they had some sort of ridiculous honor code which prevented them from jinxing her back, unless of course they felt that their lives were threatened in some way.

Before taking such a drastic step, Bilbo strode over to the minstrels and asked for something a bit more lively. “Come on, Lindir. You know that I know that you lot have more in you than this. If you want to avoid having to repair all your lovely furniture after my Company leaves, you’ll play something we can dance to.”

Lindir peered at her with the same sort of scrutiny he once gave to her essays on Middle Earth’s history. Then he sighed and conceded. “If you think that would be best, Miss Baggins.”

“I really do.”

He murmured a few words his fellow musicians, and within moments, the first strains of an elvish festival song peeled through the room. Bilbo offered them a brief curtsy in gratitude and dashed off to grab Fili’s hand. “Come dance with me.”

“What, here?” he asked, startled.

“Do you have somewhere else in mind?”

“Well, no.”

She gave him a winning smile. “Then what’s the problem?”

With a sigh she strongly suspected was mostly for show, Fili shook his head and placed his other hand at her waist, and off they went, spinning about the Hall of Fire.

* * *

“Bilbo!” Fili cried, sprinting over to where she stood speaking with Thorin to pick her up and spin her around. “I thought we’d lost you for good this time.”

She shook her head, smiling impishly. “Did you really think a little thing like falling in the goblin caves would save you from my presence? I’m afraid you lot are quite stuck with me.”

He gave her a look that went straight through her, followed by the kind of heat she thought she’d left behind when she grew out of her tweens and took off for Rivendell, learning the sorts of things no respectable hobbit lass ever studied, and so giving up the chance for any sort of love, since her parents were long gone. _“Good.”_

Howls broke through the clearing where the Company gathered, and Fili let out a curse before letting her go only to grab onto her hand, and together they ran from the wargs and orcs who had picked up their trail.

* * *

“What’s this?” Bilbo asked, staring down at the bouquet of flowers Fili held out to her.

Fili’s lips twitched beneath his mustache. “I’m not sure, but I _believe_ they’re called flowers.”

She shot him a look. “Yes, thank you for that. I suppose the better question to ask would be _why_.” It had been quite a few years since any lad dared to offer her flowers, and longer still since any of them had done so without being prompted by their opportunistic mothers, who had their eyes on Bilbo’s estate.

With a shrug that only partially succeeded in looking nonchalant, Fili told her, “I heard you discussing flowers with Beorn and thought you might like to have some.”

She eyed the flowers again. Roses and peonies and ranunculus, all in varying colors and shades. It was a feast for the eyes, and she would love to accept them, save for one fairly significant detail: “Are you aware that giving a lass a bouquet of flowers is the first step in hobbit courtships?”

“What happens if I say yes?” Fili asked, his tone a strange mixture of hope and wariness that definitely did not make her heart begin to beat faster in her chest.

Because that would be absurd.

“Well, first, I’d question your sanity,” she said baldly, taking a slow, small step closer and hardly daring to believe that this was real, and that it was happening to her. “Then, I suppose I would have to ask you if you meant it.”

“And if I said yes then?” Fili wondered, his voice low slightly raspy.

She took a deep breath and another step, reaching out to wrap one hesitant hand over his around the stems of the flowers. “I’d imagine I would have to be quite a bit more foolish than I am to do anything other than accept.”

“Only if you feel the same way for me as I feel for you.”

She brought up her other hand and ran her thumb over the backs of his knuckles. It was only then that she realized her hands were trembling, and probably had been for quite some time. She pulled the bouquet free and held it with one hand, careful not to hold it too tightly so that she would not crush the stems. Placing the other on Fili’s shoulder to help her maintain her balance, she lifted up on the balls of her feet, bringing her lips less than an inch from his. “What do you think?” she whispered before closing that last little bit of distance between them. She felt him smile against her lips as his hands came to rest at her hips and she tilted her head to deepen the kiss.

* * *

“How’s life on the outside?” Fili asked wryly, his hand reaching for hers through the bars of his cell.

She laced their fingers together and rested her head against his as best as she could, given the circumstances. “Lonely. And far too quiet. You’d think I would enjoy the silence, but I find that I’ve gotten used to being surrounded by a bunch of rowdy dwarves. I miss it.”

“It won’t be forever, Bilbo. You’ll figure something out, and we’ll take back the mountain, and you’ll spend the rest of your life surrounded by more rowdy dwarves than you can stand. And someday, hopefully far, far in the future, you’ll be their queen.”

Bilbo shuddered. “_Please_ don’t say that word.”

“What word?” Fili asked, giving her a devilish look. “Queen?”

“Fairy dust,” she spat, her ears twitching.

He chuckled at her and clucked his tongue. “Such language, Miss Baggins. Do you kiss your beau with that mouth?”

With an arch look, Bilbo pulled her hand away and told him, “Not after that.”

As she turned with every appearance of intending to flounce off, Fili reached out to snag the back of her waistcoat, pulling her back against the bars. “Hey, now. No need for that.” He spun her around gently and then pressed flush against the bars, straining towards her.

Taking pity on him, she slid her smaller head through the gap in the bars with care and slotted their lips together.

His eyes bore into hers when she pulled away, and he murmured, “I love you, you know.”

Her heart gave a lurch in her chest, and she dove in for another kiss. “I know.”

Then she moved away from his cell and made her way further down to check on his little brother who, judging by the amused, pleased, and vaguely nauseated look on his face, had heard the whole exchange.

“You two are sickeningly adorable.”

“Says the dwarf prince who’s falling for an elf maid,” Bilbo retorted, leveling an unimpressed look in his direction.

He sputtered and averted his gaze, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No, of course not.” She glanced down the corridor. “Oh, dear. Looks like I’ll have to cut this short. Tauriel’s coming.”

Kili’s face lit up, and he came forward to strain to see what Bilbo saw. “Really?”

Bilbo crossed her arms over her chest. “No.”

His shoulders slumped. “That was a dirty trick, Bilbo.”

“How is this: I won’t tease you about your elleth if you won’t tease me and Fili about our courtship?”

His lips twitched, and she could see how hard he fought against the smile threatening to spread across his face. “You drive a hard bargain, you know that?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said, preening facetiously.

“You should,” Kili told her, giving in and grinning at her after all. “You know I’m happy for you two, don’t you?”

“Of course, I do,” Bilbo said, patting Kili’s hand. “You’re a good brother, Kili.”

“Thank you. And thank you for making my brother so happy.”

These boys. What was she supposed to do with these boys? “Oh, darling. You never have to thank me for that.”

“I think I do,” Kili said. “Being the heir – it weighs on him, you know? It always has, but now that we’re so close, it’s only gotten worse. And even though you’re all tangled up in what’s to come, having you in his life helps.”

Bilbo felt her throat tighten with a swell of emotion, which simply would not do. She sniffed and cleared her throat, straightening up her waistcoat, which had been mended with magic so many times at this point that it was in danger of going see-through. She did hope that wherever the Company landed next, they would have decent clothes for her to wear. “Well,” she began, looking everywhere but Kili, “well, if that’s all, I think I should take another crack at finding Thorin. I’m afraid Thranduil’s people have him under some sort of ward which is blocking my magic.”

“Have you tried seeking out the ward itself, instead of looking for Thorin?”

Her head snapped up and she stared at Kili in amazement. “Kili, you are a _genius!”_ She hiked herself up to put a fiercely grateful kiss upon his brow and then spun away, barely able to wait until she left the line of the last dwarf’s sight before slipping the pretty little ring she’d found in the goblin caves onto her finger.

* * *

“Marry me?” Fili asked, both her hands cradled in his and held close to his chest. All about them, the people of Lake-town danced and sang and ate their fill for what was more likely than not one of the first times in many a year under the Master’s tight-fisted reign.

“Yes. Yavannah help me, but yes.” She never could refuse Fili anything when he looked at her with that soft, burning look in his eyes. She might pretend to put up a fight, but it never lasted long – and well he knew it.

He beamed down at her, pressing his forehead against her own. “Now? Tonight?”

“What, here? Now?”

“Bilbo, we may very well die tomorrow. If you and Oin weren’t so good at healing magic, Kili could have died already. Instead, look at him, dancing with Bard’s eldest daughter as though nothing ever happened.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Bilbo said, looking over at Kili, who led Sigrid around the dance floor with a brilliant grin lighting up his face, as though he had not a care in the world. The only evidence that belied this image was the haunted look hiding in the depths of his big brown eyes.

In his delirium, before Oin and Bilbo managed to heal Kili of the wound inflicted by the Morgul arrow, Kili cried out again and again for Tauriel, even knowing that he would never see her again. Bilbo did not ever wish to share such a fate. If, Yavannah forbid, something happened to either Bilbo or Fili, she wanted to know that they would be together in their final moments.

“Yes, alright,” she decided, turning back to gaze up at Fili. “Let’s find Balin or Thorin. They should be able to officiate for us, shouldn’t they?”

Fili glanced toward his uncle, his eyes troubled. “Best find Balin. I’m afraid Thorin has not been entirely himself of late.”

“You’ve seen it, too?” Bilbo asked, and then she shook her head at herself. Of course, he had. He’d only known Thorin his entire life.

“Aye,” Fili replied, tearing his gaze away from Thorin. “I’m just not sure what to do about it. But come. That is a problem for tomorrow. Tonight is about us.”

Later on, she wondered if Fili regretted putting the matter of his uncle’s strange behavior off for another day, but she never asked him. Not even once.

* * *

Bilbo clung to Fili as Smaug descended upon Lake-town, scorching everything in his path.

“Surely we should go down there and help them?”

Fili shook his head. “Thorin has ordered us to stay within the safety of the mountain.”

She let out an unimpressed grunt. “Well, he’s not my king, so I don’t have to listen to him.”

His arms tightened around her. “As my wife, you are a princess of Erebor. My uncle is very much your king. And if you think for a moment that I would let you go down to Lake-town alone, especially after having to watch you walk into the mountain without me earlier today, you could not possibly be more wrong.”

“So… where does that leave us, then?” She refused to believe that the dwarf she loved could stand by and watch as people suffered because of choices she and the rest of the Company had made. He simply did not have it in him.

“Let me go get Kili. We’ll slip away when Thorin isn’t looking and apparate down there.”

She slumped against his strong chest, boneless with relief and gratitude. “Thank you.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “We’ll make this right.”

* * *

Whatever sway the gold held over the rest of the Company was, in a way, a strange blessing. If any of her companions could think clearly, they would have already used a summoning charm to locate the Arkenstone, which was exactly what Bilbo had used to find it before she woke Smaug.

Once or twice, Fili, Kili, and Balin had eyed her oddly, as though they suspected what she kept within her pocket, but they looked away swiftly and continued their search. Balin even gave her his blessing, delicately confiding that finding the Arkenstone might make Thorin’s condition worse.

So, she held onto the stone and waited, hoping for some sort of sign, even though she personally believed that Divination and the reading of portents was all superstitious hippogriff dung.

Then the Men and the elves of the Woodland Realm arrived, and Bilbo knew the time to watch and wait was over.

* * *

It ended with her love stabbed straight through the middle and falling from more than a hundred feet in the air, and Bilbo barely holding herself together to see the rest of the battle through. She slipped away without fanfare, only Gandalf and two ghosts keeping her company.

Her first few months after reaching the Shire, she drifted through life in an alcohol-induced haze, relying on her magic to keep her from simply fading away, though she honestly would not mind if she did.

Fili would mind, though, as would his brother, and so she held on just enough to appease them.

Eventually, Fili lost patience with her wallowing. He badgered her into taking better care of herself and into engaging with the world outside Bag End. He cajoled her into welcoming her small handful of students into her smial again, and eating six meals a day, and taking at least some pride in her appearance.

Fili forced her to live, and Kili found ways to make her laugh again, though always away from the eyes of the rest of the world.

As impossible as it seemed, life went on. The sun still shone, and the seasons still passed, and howls still drifted from the Old Forest on nights when the moon was full.

Then, years after Bilbo’s less than triumphant return to the Shire, two of her favorite cousins died in a boating accident, and Bilbo, who had long since recovered from her days of mourning, brought a young, grief-stricken lad into the heart of their little family’s sanctuary, making him the newest of only a handful of people to know that the souls of Erebor’s lost princes still lingered.

If the three of them occasionally fretted over the wisdom of two ghosts and a hobbit witch raising a child, that was, perhaps, only to be expected, and they overcame their worries easily enough as Frodo blossomed under their clumsy but devoted care.

* * *

It should not be this difficult to let go of such a little thing. In truth, she rarely thought of it, though it often appeared in her pockets without her knowing how or why. In the many years since the Battle of the Five Armies, Bilbo hardly ever used it, save for when she wished to avoid the Sackville-Bagginses and her younger relations who were convinced, for no reason that she could see at all, that Bilbo’s smial was filled with hidden treasures.

It wasn’t, and even were that the case, the treasure would be hidden under dozens of wards and concealment spells, and none of her cousins, apart from the brave few willing to defy their parents and take lessons from her, would have the slightest inkling how to counter them.

Frodo would be the one to defend Bag End from sneaky Sackville-Bagginses and troublesome Tooks and Brandybucks and Bolgers now. He had a deft hand with a wand, now that she’d passed on everything she knew, and a decent head on his shoulders, through no effort of her own. Still, he might find himself in need of her little trinket a time or two, when the Gamgees weren’t about to drive any unwelcome visitors off.

Bilbo would never have thought that her stodgy gardener and his sons would become such faithful protectors of her privacy, but in the years since she returned to Hobbiton, the Gamgee lads had proven themselves quite invaluable. Samwise, one of the youngest, was not yet a tween, but he was a stalwart friend of Frodo’s, and followed her nephew around everywhere he went.

If she wasn’t quite certain that Hamfast would never speak to her again, Bilbo would have been more than happy to introduce little Sam to magic alongside Frodo, but such things were far too outlandish for Hamfast Gamgee’s hobbity sensibilities, and so she refrained. Instead, she taught Sam how to read and write in common and hoped Frodo would be able to teach the lad some Sindarin when he felt that his young friend was ready for it.

She was glad to know that the Gamgees would look after things while Frodo spent the better part of seven years in Rivendell, soaking up everything the professors there could share with him.

Alright, perhaps not everything. If Elrond’s twins corrupted her sweet nephew with their Divination and Arithmancy nonsense, she would have a thing or two to say about it. It was one thing for Oin to practice the dwarven version and quite another for Frodo to be dragged into reading crystal balls and scrying and the like.

Bilbo considered all of this, and still she could not let go of the ring.

It felt as though the metal was welded to her skin, and she would need to douse her hand in magma to part it from her.

Though they watched her intently, neither Gandalf, Kili, nor Fili intervened, and Bilbo did not know whether she should feel thankful for this or not. Her breath came in great gasps, and her arm trembled as she held it out for too long, muscles unaccustomed to such prolonged use.

She could not do this.

She _must_ do this.

Closing her eyes, she forced her breathing to even out, and her heart, which had begun to pound in her ears, to slow.

She turned her hand over so that her palm was level with the tile floor.

One by one, she eased her fingers ever so slowly away from the ring, until at last there was nothing to support it any longer.

She opened her eyes in time to see if plummet straight down to the floor, slamming into the tile with a clang that resounded painfully in her ears.

Shrinking back, she stared down at the tiny golden band. That… wasn’t right at all. By all rights, it should have bounced. It should have clinked and rebounded and rolled, possibly somewhere out of sight.

For a brief moment, she considered reaching out to it with her magic, or even picking it back up so that Frodo would not have to deal with whatever strange power resided within the ring, but the thought of the lecture she would receive from the three people in her parlor made her think better of the idea. They truly believed she needed to leave the ring with Frodo. But it was so hard to leave him with something so dangerous… and beautiful.

No! No, that was surely the ring talking. She would not give in. She had let the ring go, and that was the end of it. Instead, she straightened and snatched up her walking stick from its place by the front door, along with her traveling pack.

Turning back to the others, she called, “Well, come along, then. If we wait too much longer, Frodo will return, and then we’ll have some long, weepy goodbye, and you know how terrible I am with those.

Fili huffed but floated over to join her, waving to his brother. “Keep my nephew out of trouble, Kee.”

“Oh, no. Absolutely not. We’re going to get into all sorts of trouble and drive all the respectable hobbits in this part of the Shire completely mad.”

Bilbo aimed a look that was partly amused and partly disapproving in Kili’s general direction. “Do what you like. Just leave my poor gardener and his family out of it.” She turned to Gandalf and told him, “Now you, I expect to be the one to really keep Frodo out of trouble. And the moment either of you notice anything amiss, you _tell me_. I realize he’s a grown lad and he deserves to have a bit of freedom, but he’s still my boy, and I still want to know that he’s alright.” Looking between the two of them, she asked, “Have I made myself clear?”

Giving her what he no doubt considered a charming grin, Gandalf told her, “Perfectly, my dear. We’ll look after Frodo. Not to worry.”

“Hmm.” She fiddled with her pack, making sure that it sat comfortably on her shoulders, and then she and Fili bade Gandalf and Kili goodbye. At the last moment, as the front door was about to close, she said, “Make sure he writes to me, you hear me? And-”

“Bilbo,” Fili said. “Come on, sweetheart. If you don’t leave now, you never will. We’ll see Frodo soon enough.”

She sniffled, not sure when her nose became so stuffy. Perhaps the night air was getting to her. “You’re right, of course.” She drew a handkerchief out from her pocket, as her eyes had begun to water as well. Blast those allergies.

Fili held out his hand and waited patiently. After several decades of experimenting, Fili and Kili had learned how to make at least part of themselves more solid, which allowed Fili to hold her hand for short periods of time.

Bilbo put her handkerchief back in her coat pocket and slipped her hand into his. She shivered, but instead of letting go, she tightened her grip. Nothing could fix the difference in their temperatures, but the chills Bilbo got from touching him were more than worth it. It made the fact that he was still here seem more real.

So it was that hand in hand, they started the next chapter of their adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is wondering why they didn't simply apparate to Erebor, there's the small matter of the distance between there and the Shire, which is far too great for wizards and witches to travel. And Tolkien got away with having conveniently appearing giant eagles, so I feel it's only fair for me to get away with saving apparition for certain circumstances, as well. :)


	10. Forget Me Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Fili Friday, my lovelies! We're not quite there yet where I am, but someone rightly pointed out on Tumblr earlier that it's Fili Friday where she lives, which means it counts for the rest of us! :)
> 
> This idea stems from a discussion I had with a friend on Tumblr last week, which you can read here https://zulfiya-the-warrior-princess.tumblr.com/post/190061089044/strictlynofrills-zulfiya-the-warrior-princess - and which will also give you an opportunity to enjoy some gifs of Fili, and who doesn't want that? 
> 
> Anyway, this friend wanted to know why everyone around Fili seems so oblivious to how beautiful he is. This is the start of a story that tries to offer an explanation (Aside from the usual idea that the dwarven concept of beauty does not mesh with our concept of beauty, which is fun to play with, but I wanted to try something new. You know me. If it's unconventional, I'm probably gonna try it.).

The attacks began when Fili was hardly more than a babe. Guard after guard fell defending the young prince.

“I’ve lost some of my best men to these assassination and kidnapping attempts, Thorin. And someday, we might not be able to keep Fili from harm. We’ve lost Vili to this madness. We cannot afford to lose Fili, as well. Dis won’t survive it. And I don’t think you will, either.”

From his seat at his writing desk, Thorin studied the dwarf who was at once cousin, Captain of the Guard, and dearest friend to him. Dwalin’s hair was starting to thin at the top, though he was young yet to be suffering such a loss. Dark circles under his eyes punctuated his exhaustion and furthered the illusion of age. Even had Fili, the brightest spot in a bleak existence struggling to eek out a living for his people, not been so dear to Thorin, he would agree that something must be done, purely to take this burden from his friend and protect Dis from further loss.

Yet the love he felt for his family was not enough to inspire a solution. Thorin was thoroughly out of ideas, and he felt as though he was failing in his duty to his nephew, his sister, and his people.

“What would you have me do? Sending him away would break my sister, especially so soon after losing Vili, and even were that not the case, it would be even harder to ensure his safety with him out of our sight. There is no one I trust to guard him as fiercely as our people will.”

Dwalin could not look Thorin in the eye, which was a rare thing from the dwarf who had mouthed off to Thorin and stared him down when Thorin was being bull-headed long before the younger dwarf was old enough to match him in height.

“You have an idea. Tell me, no matter how little you believe I will like it.”

* * *

Fili guided his pony to walk alongside his uncle’s. He saw his uncle catch sight of him out of the corner of his eye and maneuvered his pony even closer.

“What is it, Fili?” Thorin asked, his voice pitched low in response to Fili’s obvious attempt to ensure them a little privacy.

“We may have a slight problem.”

Thorin sat up straighter in his saddle and tightened his hands on his reins, sure signs that he was agitated and trying not to make it obvious. Perhaps if Fili had not known his uncle his entire life, he would have missed such cues, but Thorin had been like a father to him ever since his real father died in an incident Fili could not remember, and no one would tell him about. Fili knew Thorin almost as well as he knew himself.

“Any time you refer to something as a ‘slight problem’, it turns out to be a catastrophe,” Thorin said with a mostly dry tone. “So, what is it you wish to downplay this time?”

Staring straight ahead at the miles of lush, green Shire land spread out before them, Fili replied, “Bilbo remembered me.”

Thorin pulled on his pony’s reins sharply, stopping its progress, and Fili did the same with his own. Behind them, Fili could hear the others following suit, the sound of hooves clomping slowly fading away. “What did you say?”

“You heard me,” Fili said, mostly successful in keeping his tone even.

“Do not tell me you forgot your rune stone,” Thorin said, his words dangerously low. “I had to fight your mother for months before she would agree to allow you and your brother to come on this quest, and the only reason she finally agreed was that you swore to her you would keep that stone with you at all times.”

Fili kept his gaze locked with Thorin’s whilst he reached into one of his coat pockets and unerringly pulled out the smooth, palm-sized stone, carved with runes that made anyone outside of his family forget about him almost as soon as he moved out of their line of sight, so long as he had it somewhere on his person at the time of their meeting.

He both hated and loved the thing, as it had enabled him, as a much younger dwarf, to get away with certain adventures which could have landed him in quite a bit of trouble, but it also left him isolated, trapped in an illusion of a world that was much smaller than the one in which he truly lived. It was difficult, after all, to make friends when everyone he met barely remembered his existence. It was odd, as well, as the dwarves of Ered Luin knew that they had a Prince Fili, and he had grown up alongside and trained with many of the dwarves currently living in the Blue Mountains, but they failed to connect the two. It always made escorting caravans trying, as well, because he was compelled to introduce himself to people every time he began a new journey, regardless of how many times the traders in the caravans had traveled under his protection.

Yet it kept himself, and by extension, everyone around him, a bit safer, at least if the elder members of his family were to be believed, and that was worth any price, even if that price was a deep loneliness that was mitigated only by the presence of his little brother.

Thorin’s eyes lit upon the stone Fili held aloft, and the icy look they had taken on moments before faded away. Fili watched as he turned back to take stock of their little burglar, who glanced up as though she felt his gaze upon her. She caught sight of Thorin and blanched slightly before pursing her lips and sitting taller in her saddle, which in truth did not improve her stature much at all. Then she caught sight of Fili and her face lit up before she lifted her hand and gave him another wave.

Fili fought against a wince as he tried to wave back without calling the attention of the rest of the Company. The wave Bilbo gave him a few hours ago, when she came tearing up the road to meet them outside The Green Dragon, was what had sparked his alarm to begin with. He _knew_ that the stone had been in his pocket for the entirety of yesterday evening. In fact, it had been there since the morning he and Kili set out from Ered Luin to pick up some supplies for the Company and make their journey to the Shire. It _should_ _not_ _be_ _possible_ for the lass to remember him today. But that smile she’d graced him with as she recovered from her run this morning had been one of recognition (and relief at having made it on time – that had been written in every line of her body, not just on her lovely face).

He wasn’t even sure why Bilbo seemed so happy to see him again, ignoring the fact that she should not remember him at all. His antics with her dishes and silverware seemed to distress her terribly last night. Perhaps the apology he had offered her after he’d seen how upset she still was by the time he and the others finished their song and stacked the last of the dishes could explain her lack of animosity towards him, but he certainly did not believe that it was enough to warrant the warmth she exuded towards him now.

What was it about this little hobbit lass that set her apart from everyone else?

He didn’t know, but if the thunderous look on his uncle’s face as he watched Bilbo was any indication, he was going to find out. Somehow.


	11. Forget Me Not Part II (of III)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, this is a continuation of Forget Me Not, but here's the thing: 
> 
> This particular story is going to be continued next week. 
> 
> In addition to that, I now have a bit of a dilemma in regards to my archiving of Fili Friday fics here on Ao3, as there are now a few multi-part stories included in this work, and it’s getting a bit messy in here. Do I just include a list of what’s in each chapter in the main summary of the work, or do I separate them all out into their own works? This would mean erasing people’s bookmarks and comments, and I’m not really comfortable with that, but on the other hand, it would be more organized. Thoughts? Feel free to chime in.
> 
> And now, Happy Fili Friday, lovelies! :)

Thorin fought against the urge to raise his arms in a bid at self-defense. His sister was not _that_ intimidating. No, indeed. The hairs raised on the back of his neck were from the chill in the mountain, not from fear or trepidation.

He chose to ignore the fact that the cool clime of the Blue Mountains was little different from the conditions in Erebor and failed to bother him on any other day. Nor had it caused him any discomfort prior to this discussion with Dis, who was in the process of chopping vegetables with far more ferocity than the activity warranted, in between bestowing Thorin with baleful looks of the sort that had sent many a young dwarf running in fear for his life over the years. Dams seemed to be immune, which Thorin found patently unfair.

Dis finished reducing carrots, potatoes, and celery to infinitesimal morsels destined for the stew she was making for supper and set aside one of the knives Thorin had crafted for her when she married Vili some ten years before. She pinned him with a glare and then asked, in an alarmingly even tone, “You expect me to put my son, my little golden boy, in what amounts to a _cage_ for the rest of his life? No, Thorin. There is another way, and you _will_ find it, or I will know the reason why.”

Thorin ran his hands over his face. “I don’t expect anything, Dis. I am asking you because I do not have the right, as his uncle, to make this choice for him. But you do. If you honestly do not believe that Dwalin and I have explored every other option before coming to this, you do not know us at all.” He walked over to take her hands in his, gazing down into a set of eyes that mirrored his own, shadowed from fresh grief and the exhaustion of caring for a little boy who had only just lost his father, a dwarf who had been the center of said boy’s world. “If you truly cannot bring yourself to agree with this – and there will be no talk of blame if that is the case – then I will not force you. I could never do that to you. I hope you know that much, at least.”

For a moment, Thorin thought Dis would yank her hands away. Then the firm, thin line of her mouth trembled, and she moved forward to bury her face in his chest. Thorin released her hands to wrap his arms around her shaking shoulders and rested his chin on the top of her head.

“Amad?” a tiny voice asked, the word soft from slumber. “Why’re you sad?”

Looking towards the source, Thorin caught sight of Fili standing at the end of the hallway leading to the room he shared with his mother, his thick, blond curls plastered to the sides of his head, and his eyes owlish and concerned. So young and yet already so protective, their little lion prince was.

Dis pulled away and turned toward Fili, kneeling down with her arms held out in invitation. Immediately, Fili began to toddle towards her on tiny, determined feet. He collided with her body with a slight thump, burying his face in the crook of her neck for a moment before leaning back to crane his head back and look her earnestly in the eye.

“D’you miss Adad?”

Thorin heard her suck in a breath and watched her shoulders tighten before she forced herself to relax. “Always, inudoy. But what’s this? I thought you would nap for another hour, at least. Did your uncle and I wake you?”

Fili shook his head, unruly curls bouncing slightly from the movement. “Had a bad dream. ‘Bout the bad dwarves.”

Dis’s breath hitched. “I’m so sorry, my little lion. Would you like me to come tuck you back in and sing you to sleep?”

Shaking his head again, Fili placed a kiss against Dis’s cheek. “Wanted a hug. Love you, Amad.”

She held him tighter for a moment before letting him go. “I love you, too, Fili.”

“Bigger than the Lonely Mountain?”

“My love for you is greater than a _hundred_ Lonely Mountains. A _thousand_.”

His eyes grew wide, and his little mouth dropped open in awe. “Woah. How many’s that?”

She leaned in close as though she was sharing a secret. “Many.”

He gave her a beatific grin and another kiss before toddling back off to finish his nap.

Dis rose and watched his progress, and when the door to their sleeping quarters closed, she turned back to Thorin, wrapping her arms around herself as if to ward off a chill. “We’ll do it. But _I _will carve the runes. I’ve always been better at it than you, and besides: If anyone is going to condemn one of my sons to a life of loneliness, it will be me, and none other. I can only hope that one day, when he understands what it is I have done, he can find it in himself to forgive me.”

Thorin froze. “_One_ of your sons?”

“Aye, brother,” Dis said, placing one hand over her belly, which was still slightly rounded from her pregnancy with Fili, and likely always would be. “My Vili gave me one last gift.”

His gaze drifted down to stare at the place where his sister’s hand rested, a strange mix of emotions warring within him. Children, rare and precious as they were, were always a blessing from Mahal. He truly believed that. Yet every child of the line of Durin now had a target on his back, his heir most of all. And now there would be another tiny life to keep safe, when he was already at a loss to protect one.

When he dragged his eyes away from Dis’s belly after an interminable moment, he met her own and found the same fear there that threatened to overwhelm him, but also the fierce love for this new child.

“Congratulations,” he made himself say, and attempted to do so with at least some degree of joy. “When did you find out?”

The look she gave him was more than enough to let him know that she was entirely unconvinced by his attempt to appear happy at the news. “I’ve suspected for several weeks. I spoke with Tala this morning.”

“Did… did Vili know what you suspected? Before the attack?”

She shook her head. “If you mean to ask whether or not I told him, then no. We never spoke of it. But… he knew me better than I knew myself, Thorin. He knew.”

* * *

Thorin was there the day that Dis gave Fili the runestone, as was Dwalin. It was their idea that would cut Fili off from the rest of the world, and so they both felt the need to be there to bear witness to the beginnings of what their plan wrought.

Fili needed both of his tiny, chubby toddler hands to cup the stone when Dis knelt down and passed it to him. It was smooth and dark – such a dark brown as to be almost black. The runes for protection, forgetfulness, and love had been carved deep into the surface, so that neither time nor handling could wear them away. Dis presented Fili with a small leather pouch he could wear at his hip where an older dwarf would wear the scabbard for a sword.

She placed her hands around his, covering the stone completely with her much bigger palm. “Never lose this stone, Fili. Never leave our home without it. This stone is precious above all others, because it will keep you safe, and you, little lion, are a gift beyond any price. Do you understand?”

He shook his golden head. He always had been an honest child, if one given to a bit of mischief now and then.

Ruffling his hair, Dis gave him a small, sad smile. “That’s alright. So long as you promise to always keep your runestone with you. Can you do that?”

“Yes, Amad,” Fili promised, his tiny face solemn.

“Good. Dwarves beyond our kin may seem strange to you for a time, but you will grow accustomed to it.”

Fili tilted his head at that, silently demanding an explanation.

“They will not know you. Do you remember Mistress Larni, the baker who always slips you sweet rolls when you think I’m not looking?”

His bright blue eyes bulged, but he nodded dutifully.

“The next time we go to buy bread, she will not know who you are.”

“Why?” Fili asked, sounding wounded. He loved Larni, and not only because she plied him with treats, pretending as though she was pulling off a great sleight of hand, when in truth, she had made certain to ask Dis for her permission as soon as Fili began to eat solids well enough to handle her fluffy, sweet rolls.

“Because that is what the runestone will do to keep you safe. It will make people forget.”

Thorin stepped forward and knelt down beside his sister, drawing Fili’s attention. “Do you remember the attacks? The dwarves and Men and orcs who have come and tried to take you away from us? The ones who took your Adad from us?”

His sister’s eyes burned a hole in the side of his head, but he ignored her, intent on ensuring that Fili understood the gravity of the situation. She could upbraid him about causing Fili to have nightmares later, and Thorin would say nothing in defense of himself, because he deserved none.

“If no one outside of our family can remember you, then they cannot take you from us as they took him. Do you understand?”

Slowly, Fili nodded.

“Good lad.” Thorin rose, and Dis followed him, scooping Fili up into her arms in the process. She held Fili close and pressed her forehead to his, closing her eyes as she swayed gently from side to side. “We’ll give you two some time alone.”

“Yes,” Dis said, not opening her eyes. “I believe that would be best.”

He clasped her shoulder briefly, and Dwalin straightened from his position against the door, coming close enough to pat her on the back before turning and leading the way out of Dis and Fili’s living quarters.

As the door closed behind them, Thorin asked, “Do you think we’re doing the right thing?”

“I can’t answer that, Thorin. If you want to discuss ethics, you are talking to the _wrong_ son of Fundin. But I can tell you this: we’re doing the safest thing. No one who would ever lay a hand on that boy will remember him, so long as he carries that stone.”

“Neither will anyone else, so long as they are not of our line.”

Dwalin had nothing to say to that.

* * *

As the sun crept lower in the sky, Thorin called the Company to a halt. “We will rest here for tonight.”

Fili glanced around at the clearing his uncle had chosen and dismounted gratefully. The land was green and lush, and there would be plenty of grass to soften the ground beneath them as they slept that night. The perks of still traveling within the Shire, he supposed. Never had he and Kili been to a place so peaceful and teaming with life as this, and should they succeed, never would they see such a place again.

“Fili, Burglar, we will look for firewood.”

Every head within the Company turned towards Thorin.

“The three of you? All together?” Dwalin asked, sounding suspicious.

That was the tone he used when he sensed that Thorin or one of his other charges knew of something potentially dangerous and neglected to share it, and from the look on Thorin’s face, he had recognized it as well. Considering Thorin and Dwalin had known each other for longer than Fili had been alive, that was only to be expected.

Still, Thorin elected not to elaborate, as Fili knew he would. “That is what I said,” he agreed implacably. “Come, Fili. Miss Baggins.”

“Yes, yes, just a moment, if you don’t mind.” Their little burglar dismounted from her pony with some help from Bofur and made her way towards Thorin on stiff legs. Fili winced in sympathy. He couldn’t imagine riding for the first time for the better part of a day, at the pace Thorin had set. Fili was sore himself this evening, and he had learned how to ride a pony as a child.

When he realized he had spent too long observing Bilbo, he shook himself and began to walk towards her and his uncle, who stood waiting for them at the edge of the clearing with an air of barely concealed impatience.

As Fili reached his uncle, Thorin said, “Balin, see that the others set up camp while the three of us are gone.”

Their cousin dipped his head in acknowledgement and turned to address the rest of the Company. “Well, come on, then, lads,” he said lightly. “Our bedrolls won’t set themselves out.”

As Bilbo drew nearer, Fili bowed to her. “Fili, son of Vili, at your service, Miss Baggins.”

She gave him a quizzical look. “Yes, I know. Y-“

Fili shook his head minutely, pleading with his eyes and hoping beyond hope that she would catch his meaning and stop. The last thing the Company could afford was a panic, especially so early in their quest.

She raised her eyebrows but recovered better and faster than Fili would have expected, though Gandalf had indicated that she was a clever lass. “Your uncle said your name when he announced we would be gathering the firewood this evening.”

Dipping his head slightly in gratitude, Fili said, “Yes, of course. Force of habit. You understand.”

“Of course.” With any luck, none of the others could tell that she was looking at him pointedly, a silent demand for an explanation in her bright blue eyes, which stood out against her dark brown curls and pale skin.

They reached Thorin together, and he turned to lead them off away from the rest of the Company. They traveled further from the group than Fili might have preferred, but then, they were still in the Shire. The only true danger to them at present was whatever defect in the runestone had allowed Bilbo to remember him.

When they were far enough away to appease Thorin, he rounded on Bilbo, who drew up short. Fili didn’t blame her. He had been on the receiving end of that dark look a time or two as a lad, and those instances had been more than enough to encourage him to never anger his uncle so thoroughly again.

“What are you, halfling? Some sort of witch? A servant of the Enemy? What foul magic have you worked?” When all Bilbo did was eye Thorin with a bewildered look which rapidly mixed with irritation, Thorin shouted, “Answer me! What have you done?”

Bilbo straightened as much as she was able, which did little to improve her height, but seemed to make her feel on more even footing, at least. “I have done _nothing_. I _am_ nothing but a hobbit – one who has apparently had the incredibly poor judgment to sign up for a quest with a leader who sees only enemies where he should see friends. I signed a contract this morning, Master Oakenshield, and I will keep to it. But know this: I will do exactly what I am bound to do, but I will not suffer myself to be abused. If you find fault with my services, then _talk to me_. Do not ever make such hasty and unfounded accusations towards me again. I don’t tolerate that sort of behavior from my own people, so I certainly will not tolerate it from others, whether they are kings or cobblers.”

She waited for a moment, keeping her gaze locked with Thorin’s. “Do we understand one another, sir?”

Thorin stared at her for a good while, clearly stunned by this show of steel in Bilbo’s spine, which was at odds with the fretful, fainting lass he and the rest of the Company met last night. Fili was equally surprised, but also relieved. It was good to know that there was more to Bilbo than he had thought last night. It gave him hope that she would be able to survive the trials ahead.

There was a large part of him that felt guilty about bringing a woman on such a quest as theirs. It stemmed from a lifetime of being taught that dams were precious and to be protected at all costs – even though they could protect themselves quite well on their own.

Conceding at last, Thorin gave a slow nod. “Aye, Miss Baggins. We understand one another.”

“Good. Now, would one of you care to explain what exactly it was that had you in such a strop in the first place?”

She waited for a few beats, glancing from Thorin to Fili expectantly. Fili shot a hesitant look toward his uncle. Never before had he needed to explain his circumstances to anyone. When Kili grew old enough to wonder why everyone outside their family treated Fili so oddly, it was their mother who explained the matter. When the Ur family volunteered for this quest, it was handled by Dwalin and Nori.

Fili had no idea what his cousins said to Bombur, Bifur, and Bofur, but whatever it was, the three of them spoke not a word to anyone back home in Ered Luin, and they all had done their best to treat Fili as they treated any of the others in the Company, and had done so since the night they all gathered in Uncle Thorin’s home to become better acquainted with each other and receive their assignments to be completed prior to the start of the quest. The three Urs had carried runestones of their own in the time since their initial introduction which exempted them from the influence of Fili’s, and while it was an imperfect solution, particularly as it presented the risk that someone with ill intentions could obtain one of the stones, it was the best solution that they could come up with.

When it was clear neither of the dwarves before her knew how or were inclined to answer her question, she sighed and said, “I believe you said something about my having done magic or being a witch? Which is, quite frankly, laughable. Hobbits don’t practice magic. It’s not that we aren’t _capable_, mind you. We simply don’t hold with it. Magic is for wizards and elves, and other Big Folk, if you’ll pardon me for saying so. Not hobbits. Certainly not me.”

“None of your people practice magic, Miss Baggins?” Fili asked, more to avoid another long stretch of silence.

“Well, now, my gardener works a fine bit of what some might call magic on my flowers and herbs, but he certainly wouldn’t consider it anything aside from good, plain hobbit sense. And we are very good at moving about unheard and unseen, as Gandalf told you last night, but that’s more to do with our unshod feet and those taller than we are never looking any lower than their noses.” She flushed and appeared appalled at herself. “I’m so sorry. That was terribly rude.”

“But not, perhaps, entirely uncalled for,” Thorin said, his usual stern mien giving way to mild amusement. He bowed to Bilbo, and when he straightened, he added, “Please forgive me, Miss Baggins. In my concern for my nephew and for my people, I may have been rather overzealous before.”

From the ironic light in her eyes, Fili imagined that Bilbo considered Thorin’s earlier reaction beyond “rather overzealous” but she was gracious enough to leave Thorin’s phrasing unchallenged.

“Just don’t do it again, and all is forgiven. Now, what has you so concerned? As I said, magic is not done among my people, so I cannot claim to be any sort of expert, but I will help you if I can.”

“My family comes from a very important line, Miss Baggins,” Fili said, trying and failing not to feel as though he was breaking about a hundred taboos by discussing this. “We are descended from Durin the Deathless, and while there are many who respect our line, there are also those who believe that our line should die out. That we have brought more misfortune than good to our people. When I was young, I became the target of those people’s frustration. Mercenaries and assassins and kidnappers came for me. It was difficult to keep me safe.” He motioned towards his hair. “Blonde hair is rare among my people, and I look very much like others of the royal line, which makes me easily identifiable.”

“So, you see,” Thorin broke in when Fili’s discomfort with revealing his past became clear, “my nephew has had a target on his back from the day he was born, and he was too visible. We were desperate. We had to find a way to keep him safe. So, we made it so that no one could remember Fili – what he looked like, whether they had met. No one beyond our kin.”

Bilbo’s eyes were wide in her pale face, which grew even paler. Fili saw her lips part a time or two, as though she might say something, but no words passed between them. Finally, she appeared to give up and turned to sit upon what was either a large, white rock, or a very small boulder, protruding up from grass so green it almost did not look real.

“Miss Baggins?” Thorin asked.

Her ears twitched, and as she turned her face up to the canopy of trees all about them, Fil heard her issue what sounded distinctly like a sniffle. “I’m alright. Just – processing. That is… quite a lot to take in, Master Oakenshield.”

“Thorin.”

She peered up at him searchingly. “Thorin.”

Then she swiped at her eyes, trying to be discrete, even though she had to know it was futile. They were looking right at her.

With a deep breath, she turned to direct her gaze toward Fili, who felt something odd twist inside of him at the sight of her slightly watery eyes, and the compassion they held within. “I am so sorry, Fili. I cannot even imagine what that must be like for you.”

Fili shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat. Over the years, his mother, uncle, brother, and several of his cousins had said they were sorry for what he had to do in order to keep himself and those around him safe, but that was different. They all loved him.

This tiny woman, who knew absolutely nothing about him, had been driven to tears on his behalf. He didn’t know what to say. “Ah, well, that’s alright, Miss Baggins. I have my family. I do well enough.”

Every time he said similar things to reassure his loved ones that he was alright, that he did not blame them, that he could endure everything as long as he knew that they would be safe, he wondered if they could tell that inside, he was screaming, desperate to bang on the walls of the invisible prison he was trapped in and even tear them down until they could never be put back up again.

Bilbo pursed her lips and studied him, her keen eyes seeing more than Fili would like. “Hmm,” she replied, her tone clearly skeptical. “And what of Kili? Is he under similar protection?”

“Kili is protected, yes,” Thorin said. “But he never drew as much attention from our enemies and detractors as Fili, so his protection is less extensive. However, I believe we are getting off track. We still have yet to determine how you remember Fili, which is the reason we have shared all of this with you. This should not be possible.”

“Ah. Well, it has often been my experience that what _should_ _be_ and what _is_ are two very different things,” Bilbo said philosophically. “Truth be told, I don’t know why whatever magic you used did not work on me. I’m really only a very plain hobbit lass, you see. There’s nothing special about me.”

“The wizard seems to disagree,” Thorin reminded her.

“Yes, well, that may have more to do with sentimentality than anything. He was very good friends with my mother. Now there was an exceptional hobbit,” she added fondly. “If anyone could have confounded your magic, it would have been Belladonna Baggins.”

“And are you not Belladonna Baggins’s daughter?” Fili asked.

With a perplexed look, Bilbo replied, “Well, yes, I _just_ said-“

“So, perhaps those things that made your mother exceptional have been passed down to you?” he pressed.

Bilbo gazed at him for a long moment, her usually expressive eyes inscrutable. “Maybe.”

* * *

When they finally returned to their camp for the night, after a firm reminder from Thorin that should Bilbo ever be separated from Fili again, she should not let on that she remembered him when next they met, they had more than enough firewood to appease even the most vocal complaints about just what exactly had taken them so long when there were three of them.

And then Bofur chimed in, saying, “Miss Baggins is such a wee little thing. She hardly counts,” eying their burglar with a fondness that made Fili’s chest tighten unpleasantly and his hands clench for reasons he found he could not explain.

“I beg your pardon?” Bilbo said, though she appeared amused, rather than offended.

“If you want to beg me for something else, lass, you’re more than welcome, but my pardon you can have for free,” Bofur replied, shooting her a cheeky grin.

His brother cuffed him on the back of the head. “That’s no way to talk to such a fine lady, and you know it.”

Bofur rubbed the back of his head, aiming playfully wounded eyes Bombur’s way. “I was only joking, brother. No need to knock me about.”

Bilbo watched the two brothers with a tolerant air and then said, “Thank you for defending my honor, though I’m not entirely sure how fine of a lady I am, going off on an adventure with you lot without a single relative or chaperone in sight. Anyway, if you’re quite done thrashing your brother, would you mind telling me how I might help you prepare supper, Master Bombur?”

“I’d be happy to, Miss.”


	12. Forget Me Not Part III of III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Happy Fili Friday! It's after midnight here, so it totally counts. This is the final part of Forget Me Not, and it's the last piece I'll be adding to this work. From here on out, all Fili Friday fics will be posted as individual pieces.
> 
> Feel free to come check me out and chat with my on Tumblr. My page is fairly easy going on most days, and then Thursday night and Friday roll around, and it's basically an explosion of all things Fili, which is a blast. You can find me here: https://strictlynofrills.tumblr.com/
> 
> And if you're looking for more Fili fics, and you're not sure who to check out, definitely go read anything by ISeeFire or Agent_Snark, who are both incredible and love Fili just as much as we all do. ;)
> 
> And now, onto the final part of Forget Me Not! :)

A few days out from the Shire, Fili noticed Bilbo guiding her pony to tread alongside his own where he road at the head of the Company, just behind Thorin. “Do you think Gandalf knows? About you, I mean?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, my dear. Of course, I know. As if a few runes would be enough to confound me.”

Bilbo did not startle but she did turn an ironical eye upon Tharkûn, who had snuck up upon them and inserted himself into their whispered conversation. “Is that right? Well, then surely the map of Erebor should prove no trouble for you at all. Tell me: When were you planning to reveal what it said again?”

Tharkûn’s face grew more and more irked as she went on, and Bilbo bestowed upon him a polite, condescending smile that reminded Fili uncomfortably of his mother’s when she dealt with council members and guild masters who had never learned when to shut their mouths. May Bilbo never turn that look upon him. He was not too proud to admit that he would flee at the sight of it, were it directed at him.

“Oh, you weren’t?” she asked, her eyes wide and innocent. “What a pity.”

The wizard withdrew, grumbling under his breath, and Bilbo’s demeanor relaxed into something far more genuine.

“What was that all about?” Fili asked warily.

“Hmm? Oh, I still haven’t forgiven him for disappearing for several decades and then popping back up only to bring chaos into my life like a dandelion sprouting in my garden. And just when I’d finally grown comfortable with my life as a spinster, too.”

She shrugged and mused, “But then, I suppose that’s just the way of things with wizards, isn’t it? Coming and going to stir things up. It’s hard to believe that when I was a faunt, all I knew of Gandalf was that he was friends with my mother and he made the most incredible fireworks. He’s so much more than that. More irritating at least,” she added with a wry chuckle.

“Aren’t most people more than what we remember them for as children?” He thought wistfully of Mistress Larni, who had been so free with sweet rolls. He could barely remember anything from before he received the runestone, but he remembered a sticky, sweet pastry in his mouth and a doting, secretive smile in a round face. He remembered when the pastries and the smiles stopped coming.

His mother had stopped going to Mistress Larni for baked goods after she saw how heartbroken Fili was over her not remembering him. It hadn’t even been about the sweet rolls. It had been about the loss of his friend, though she had been right there, close enough to reach out and touch.

“Yes, I suppose so,” Bilbo said, bringing Fili back to the present. “And what about you?”

“What about me?” Fili asked, surprised by this new line of thought.

“There is so much more to you than that stone and the runes carved into it. It may be an important part of your life, but it does not define you. If the people outside of your family could remember you from the time you were a child until now, what would they say about you?”

Fili shook his head. “I don’t know.”

For a moment, a sad light crept into Bilbo’s eyes, but then she shook it off and said, “Well, then I suppose we’re just going to have to find out.”

“Are we?” It was so strange and new to have someone express such an interest in who Fili was. Something beyond the first of a hundred meetings with the same person, many of which were almost exactly the same as the times before. Bilbo not only knew and remembered him, she wanted to know more.

“We are. You’re like a riddle, Master Fili. And I do so love riddles.”

The smile she gave him then, bright and coy, did something strange but pleasant to his chest, and he wondered what it would take to see it again.

* * *

Fili could not believe that they had managed to lose the ponies. He had only looked away to tussle with his little brother for a moment, and now two of their mounts were gone.

Uncle was going to kill him. Kili as well, but Thorin had always been more permissive with Kili than with Fili. One day, Fili would rule in Thorin’s stead, though the details of how all that would work when he had the runestone were still rather muddled. He had always secretly dreaded and yet hoped for the day when he would be king, because it would mean his uncle was no longer with him, and because it would likely mean an end to his time in the shadows. It would have to, would it not? How could he be the king of a people who did not know him? How could he form and amend treaties with foreign nations, or settle disputes amongst the guildsmen?

Though it might be a moot point now, since Thorin was going to kill him, or at least disinherit him, for losing the ponies.

“Bofur said to take this to ‘the lads’, though I’m not sure which ‘lads’ he was talking about. There’s only you after all, Kili-“ Bilbo drew up short and gave Fili an astonished look. “Oh, hello. Kili, who’s this?”

Fili felt the same stab of fear as he always did when Bilbo played at this, always waiting for the moment when whatever strange power made her immune to the runestone waned, and she became as lost to him as everyone else not a wizard nor of his kin. Yet as Kili turned to dutifully explain the presence of his older brother for the hundred thousandth time in their lives, she shot Fili a wink, and tension he had not even realized had built there drained from his chest and shoulders.

She was a clever lass, their Bilbo. Quick of wit and silver of tongue, and as kind as she was blustery. If anyone had to be an exception to the runestone’s power, Fili was glad it was she.

“Bilbo, this is my brother, Fili.”

“Your brother? Why, I didn’t know you had a brother. Have you been away on other business all this time, Master Fili?” He could tell the moment she realized not all was well, as she dropped the act. “What’s the matter?”

“We may have a encountered a slight problem. You see, we had sixteen ponies, and now there are only fourteen.”

“Oh,” Bilbo said, her blue eyes widening and her ruby red lips forming a perfect little circle of unhappy surprise. “Oh, dear.”

She was so clever, their lass, and her ability to remember him even with the runestone had Fili half-convinced she could do anything, which was how Fili made the mistake of sending Bilbo to retrieve their lost ponies while he went to get help.

* * *

She was covered in troll snot, exhausted, and battered to the point where he wasn’t sure there was a spot on her that was not bruised, scraped, or smudged with something foul, and she still remembered to gawk at Fili and then say, “Oh, no. I suppose the trolls captured you, too? You poor dear. I suppose it’s a good thing we came along after all.”

Thorin turned from where he had been freeing himself from his burlap sack and shot Bilbo the driest look Fili had seen on his uncle’s face yet – and in his eight decades of life, he had seen many. He hoped the others thought Bilbo’s shoulders were shaking from shock and not from the laughter he could see lurking beneath the relief and weariness in her eyes.

Dori came up and draped her in a blanket, so he supposed that at the least, their fussiest member had been fooled.

* * *

The two weeks they spent in Rivendell were a wonderful reprieve from the endless variations on Bilbo feigning surprise and confusion at Fili’s appearance. The only times she needed to put on the act were when they would all meet for meals or in the Hall of Fire. The rest of them time, she and Fili would arrange to meet somewhere out of sight of the rest of the Company, and they would find different ways to pass the time together.

One of their favorite places to meet was the library. So long as they were careful to avoid Ori, they could spend hours in there together speaking about anything and everything in low tones, tucked away from the rest of the world. Though Fili would usually find so many days of inaction grating, having the chance to spend so much time with his new friend made all of their days waiting for Lord Elrond to be able to read the map of Erebor some of the best days of his life.

Finally, he could pour his heart out to someone not of his blood and have her trust him enough to do the same. She listened to his fears about being a good ruler someday, when he had never had the chance to truly connect with his people, and she held his hand when he spoke of the unending loneliness he felt as a child, and continued to feel to this day. That loneliness had lessened considerably since Bilbo came into his life, but one day, this quest would end, and she would not be there any longer. Fili wasn’t sure what he would do then. He wasn’t sure he could stand to go back to the way things had always been.

Bilbo spoke of her own loneliness and of her grief for her parents, which had grown less keen over the decades since they had passed, but had left her feeling rather alone in the world, as there were now few left who understood her.

“I have a few friends and several cousins I get on with well enough, but they all have their own lives – many of them are married and have children, and those who aren’t are too young to understand what my life is like. I’m happy for them, of course, but it is a bit hard sometimes, not having anyone who can relate.”

She watched his face avidly as he tried her latest prize from the kitchens: a generous slice of mince pie filled with various dried fruits. Before her, she had a plate with a slice considerably larger than his own. Knowing the extent of her appetite, Fili had no concerns about her ability to finish her piece of pie, though he would have been more than amenable to helping her with the task. It smelled incredible. He felt the first bite of flakey dough and the filling hit his tongue and let out a pleased noise.

“I take it mince pies are definitely on the list?” Bilbo asked with a grin before taking a bite of her own.

The pie was the latest in a series of goods she had presented him with in her own personal quest to discover what sorts of foods he enjoyed, once she found out that the elves had been holding out on the Company the night of their arrival. Fili had asked her, in the beginning, why she did not simply have him tell her what he liked.

“What, and spoil all the fun? We’re making memories, Fili. Like that face you made last night when you tried figgy pudding.” She grinned in delight at the involuntary look of wounded betrayal and revulsion on his face. “Yes, that one exactly.”

“You and I have very different definitions of the concept of ‘fun’,” Fili grumbled, though he could not entirely prevent the smile which pulled insistently at the corners of his lips. She wanted to make memories – memories that involved him. She _could_ make memories that involved him, and she could _keep_ _them_.

“Oh, don’t sulk so. It doesn’t suit you,” she said, the amused glint in her eyes telling him she knew exactly how feigned his irritation was. She picked up his fork and cut off another bite, putting the morsel to his lips. “Cheer up. Have some more pie. I promise to never subject you to figgy pudding ever again, so help me Yavannah.”

He raised his eyebrows at her audacity but accepted the forkful gamely enough.

What?

It was good pie.

* * *

“Where do you go?” Kili asked on their third morning in Rivendell as he tried, once again, to tame his unruly hair.

Fili finished braiding the last of his braids and eyed his brother’s attempt with fond amusement. He considered leaving Kili to it and then rolled his eyes at himself. A certain amount of decorum was expected in foreign lands, even among the elves… unless a gaggle of dwarves felt the sudden need to bathe in the very public fountain.

“Here, let me do that,” he said, batting his brother’s hands away gently.

“I almost had it this time,” Kili protested, though Fili could tell that his little brother knew it was futile. Kili was capable of many things, but managing his hair was not one of them. Fili wished Kili’s future spouse luck with the endeavor, he truly did. “And anyway, don’t think I missed the fact that you haven’t answered my question. I see you in the mornings and at mealtimes and as soon as everyone is occupied, you disappear on me.”

As he combed through Kili’s hair, careful not to pull too roughly on the snarls his comb encountered, Fili said, “I’m sorry if you’ve felt a bit neglected.”

Kili shook his head and then winced when the motion caused Fili to uproot a few hairs.

“Would you hold still? Mahal, you’re as bad as you were as a pebble.”

“Sorry,” Kili said, not sounding sorry at all. “And I haven’t been feeling neglected, Fee. There’s plenty of company to be had here, even if most of that company is comprised of elves.” He shrugged, managing to pull the move off without jostling his head and thus avoiding the loss of another patch of hair. “Though the elves aren’t a bad lot, really. I went on a hunt with Elladan and Elrohir – Lord Elrond’s sons – yesterday, and we actually got on.”

“Thorin let you go on a hunt with a pair of elves?” Fili asked, raising his eyebrows, suppressing the pang of jealousy he always felt when hearing that once again, Kili had made a new friend – or friends, as the case may be. He was happy for his brother, but he could not entirely escape the yearning for friends of his own.

He ruthlessly squashed that feeling down further by reminding himself that he had Bilbo now, and really, things were better for him than they had ever been.

Fili was _happy_.

Kili was quiet for a moment before he said delicately, “’Let’ isn’t really the word I would use.”

Ah. He should have guessed. “Thorin doesn’t _know_ you went on a hunt with a pair of elves. Even better.”

“…No, he doesn’t, and I would prefer that we keep it that way.”

Finished with combing out Kili’s hair at last, Fili began to pull the front and sides into a single braid, which was about all that even he could accomplish with Kili’s hair, fine as it was once all the tangles were finally worked out. “I won’t say anything if you don’t,” Fili said mildly.

“About your disappearing act, you mean?”

“Exactly.”

“And you’re not actually going to tell me anything about it, are you?”

“I am not.”

Fili waited while his brother mulled this over and finished off Kili’s braid with the clasp reserved for the rare times when his hair received any proper attention.

Kili reached up to run his fingers lightly over the braid and then turned, shrugging his shoulders easily. “Fair enough.”

* * *

As leery as Fili’s people had always been taught to be of elves, Fili found himself strangely reluctant to leave their idyll in Rivendell, but his uncle gave the order to depart, and depart he did.

“Oh, hello,” Bilbo said quietly, popping up beside him with a glum expression on her face which she attempted to hide with limited success. “Have you just caught up with the rest of us? How did you know to find the Company in Rivendell? It was my understanding that this wasn’t part of the original route.”

Fili’s lips twitched beneath his mustache. “There’s a bit of foresight in my mother’s line, Miss-?”

Her eyes lit up at this new detail. “Baggins. Bilbo Baggins. And you are?”

“Fili, son of Vili, at your service.” He sketched a quick bow, careful to avoid bumping into Kili and Ori, who were before and behind him in the line as they slipped away from the Last Homely House.

“And I am at yours and your family’s,” Bilbo replied lightly, though there was an undercurrent of something deeper in her words.

“Of that,” Fili murmured, careful to ensure that the words fell on her keen ears alone, “I have no doubt.”

There was a softness in her face as she darted a glance about at the others, who had largely grown bored with the many first meetings between Fili and Bilbo since the quest began, and so hardly spared them any attention after the initial words were exchanged. Assured that they were no longer under scrutiny, she reached out to grasp Fili’s hand briefly and gave it a squeeze.

His hand felt warm for hours after she let go, even though her body temperature was considerably lower than his own.

* * *

He couldn’t sleep after being separated from Kili during the thunder battle and almost losing Bilbo. Over and over, he saw her nearly plummet to her death, and there was a war going on within him over his gratitude towards Thorin for saving her life, and his anger at Thorin for the words he spoke to her after.

Fili knew that his uncle lashed out when he was worried or afraid for someone. He and Kili had been on the receiving end of such outbursts many a time over the years after being caught in some fit of recklessness or another to recognize his ire towards Bilbo for what it was. Bilbo had no such assurance. He knew that to her mind, it must seem as though Thorin had thrown away the agreement she and his uncle had reached on the first evening of their journey.

In a bid to quiet his mind, Fili carefully extracted himself from his brother, who had a habit of rolling into Fili in his sleep and stealing his warmth, and pulled out his pipe and tobacco. They may not have been allowed to light a fire in the cave, but he could at least light his pipe with his bits of tinder and flint.

He worked quietly, with sure fingers, and it was not long before the first puff of smoke hit his eager lungs. He took another pull and let out a grateful sigh. It had been several days since his last smoke, and the pipe weed soothed him in a way few things could.

As another smoke cloud issued from his pursed lips, Fili heard something stir at the cave entrance. He glanced over and caught sight of Bilbo trying to leave the cave.

Bofur, their dwarf on watch, stopped her with a few soft words, but Bilbo would not be dissuaded.

A stone settled in Fili’s throat, and he rose smoothly, putting out his pipe and storing it away. He stepped around the forms of his companions with the ease of one made to see in the dark and joined Bilbo and Bofur, at which point he saw Bilbo startle and shoot him a guilty glance.

With a nod of thanks to Bofur for being there to stall her long enough for Fili to arrive, though doubtless that had not been Bofur’s intent, Fili put his hand on Bilbo’s upper arm and gently drew her away.

“What are you doing, lass?” he asked lowly. “Do you think you’ll be able to get so far as a league from this place on your own, in the dark?”

She swallowed and turned her face away from him. “What else can I do, Fili? Thorin made his feelings on my presence among you quite clear, and much as I hate to say it, I find I cannot entirely disagree with him. I have a blade now, yes, but I hardly know how to use it. My kind is unknown to the dragon, but what will that matter if he wakes? Prey is prey, whether a predator has smelt it before or not. I can do nothing for this Company’s quest, Fili. I thought for a while that maybe I could, but after today I can see I have only been fooling myself. At best, I will disappoint you. At worst, I will get you all killed.”

“How can you say that?” Fili asked, turning her back towards him again. “You saved us from the trolls.”

She scoffed. “Oh, yes, after getting us caught by them first.”

“After I sent you to retrieve the ponies,” he reminded her. “And none of that would have happened if Kili and I had only kept a better eye on them.”

“Because two young dwarves are such an even match for three fully grown trolls?” Bilbo asked, incredulous.

“And yet you doubt yourself because of an encounter with stone giants,” Fili said, keeping his tone and expression mild. He let go of her arm and cupped his hand around her cheek, noting the way she tilted her face into the warmth. “Please don’t leave us. Don’t leave me. You may not see it, but I need you. You’re the only one that has ever really seen me. The only one who has ever made me feel as though there might be a way out of this cage.” He didn’t think he had ever called it that outside of the confines of his own head.

Bilbo’s face softened, and she reached up to cup his cheek in return. “Oh, Fili. You hold the key to your freedom. You always have. You are a prince, and the day is fast approaching when you will no longer be able to remain hidden. Cast away that stone, Fili. Let yourself embrace life for once. Stop putting the needs of everyone else before your own. I can see the way it is destroying you.”

He wanted to. Oh, how he longed to take the runestone out and cast it over the side of the cliff. It burned in him, this need for freedom, brighter than it ever had. And yet… “I can’t. Not yet.”

“Then when?”

“I don’t know. After we reclaim Erebor, perhaps.”

For a moment, it looked as though Bilbo would protest, and then her ears twitched, and she glanced back into the deeper gloom of the cave’s depths. Her hand went to the hilt of her tiny blade, and Fili reached for the swords at his back.

“What is it?” he breathed.

“I’m not sure.” She drew her blade and stared down at it in dismay. “Goblins!” she cried, her voice loud enough to carry to those at the back of the cave. “Wake up, all of you! Goblins are near!”

The others jerked out of sleep and began to reach for their packs and their weapons, but it was too late. The Company was surrounded.

* * *

Bilbo’s loss was not one Fili would soon recover from, if he ever did. In the short time that he had known her, Bilbo had given him hope. The more time passed without Bilbo forgetting him when they parted, the more Fili began to believe that one day he would be able to live without being separated from most of the world.

And now she was gone, her body likely crumpled at the bottom of the goblin caves.

He bit his tongue as he ran with the rest of the Company, hoping the pain would distract him enough to keep his tears at bay, though his eyes were hot and his gaze blurred.

“Where is Bilbo? Where is our burglar?” Gandalf demanded when he and Thorin stopped what they must have felt was an acceptable distance from the goblin caves.

Gone. Gone, gone, gone, to a place where Fili could not follow.

“Here! I’m here! I’m coming! Wait up, you lot! Some of us weren’t gifted with such long legs.”

Fili whirled about, his eyes wide and his breath caught in his chest.

For a moment, it seemed as though Bilbo would run right into him. Her arms parted as though readying for an embrace, and Fili found himself mimicking her, thrusting his own arms out from his side, but then she caught herself and turned to make her way towards the wizard, who absorbed the impact of her small body with ease, and placed his large, gnarled hands on her narrow shoulders.

“Bilbo, my dear. What a welcome sight you are.”

“You’re not such a bad sight, yourself, Gandalf,” Bilbo retorted, her voice bright with cheeky relief.

“How did you escape the goblins? Why did you come back?” Thorin asked.

“Oh, what does it matter?” Tharkûn asked.

“It matters,” Thorin said.

Bilbo pulled away from Tharkûn and stepped towards Thorin, shooting Fili a swift glance before refocusing on his uncle. “I told you, Thorin. I signed a contract. And,” she paused to bite her lip before saying, “I have been told that I am needed here, with you. I don’t think I’ve ever been _needed_ a day in my life until you lot came stomping into it. How could I possibly walk away from that?”

Thorin’s lips parted, but then howls broke through their reprieve, and whatever he would have said was lost in the Company’s haste to outrun the wargs which soon came snapping and snarling at their heels.

* * *

Early in the morning on their second day at Beorn’s, someone shook Fili awake. This jostling was far gentler than the sort he received from anyone in his family, which told even his half-awake mind exactly who the culprit was. He shoved down the instinct to reach for his weapons and dragged his eyes open, peering blearily up at Bilbo where she knelt above his bedroll, one hand on his shoulder and the other raised with her index finger covering her lips.

Raising his eyebrows, he rubbed the grit out of his eyes and glanced about at the rest of the Company where they slept curled about and around each other. Only Thorin was awake, likely unable to get comfortable with his wounds. He met his uncle’s tolerant, if exhausted and grumpy, gaze, and watched him nod. Then he carefully moved his brother’s head off of his stomach and rose on feet as silent as he could make them, following Bilbo out of the house and into Beorn’s garden.

When they were far enough away to avoid the risk of waking the rest of the Company, Bilbo tilted her head up towards the sun and closed her eyes, letting out a happy sigh. “It feels so good to be in the sun for a little while with nowhere to go. Nothing is chasing us. We have plenty of food. Our host has graciously agreed not to eat us. And you and I can just… disappear for a little while. The way we did before, in Rivendell.”

She held up a basket she’d snagged as they stepped out of the front door, and something warm and yeasty wafted from beneath the cloth covering. Wagging the basket slightly, she turned and beckoned for him to follow her. “Come on. I found the perfect place. Well, alright, one of the sheep led me to the perfect place when I asked him for directions earlier, but even so.”

“Ah, well if one of the _sheep_ showed you,” Fili said dryly.

With a roll of her eyes, she reached out with her free hand and snagged hold of one of his own, obviously done waiting for him to listen of his own accord. He refrained from pointing out that if he wanted to resist her hold, it would be the work of a moment for him to pull away. She led him over to a small circle of trees, with a spot in the middle just large enough for them to both lay down and spread their arms out, if they so chose.

Instead, they sat and unpacked the basket, which was full of fresh bread and honey and cream and several different kinds of jams, and a jar of milk for each of them.

Fili would miss that when they left. Milk had been a rarity growing up, and here he could have a quart of the stuff whenever he wanted. He wondered if Beorn would let him have one last jar to enjoy on the first day back on the road.

When the contents of the basket had been demolished, Bilbo lowered herself down to the grass and spread out with a look of profound contentment on her face. Fili was so full that laying down seemed like a fine idea, and he joined her, staring up at the cloudless blue expanse surrounded by the dense branches of the trees all around their little clearing.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” Bilbo said wistfully, breaking the silence between them.

“Aye,” Fili agreed, though he imagined too much time spent like this would leave him utterly bored. “It’s not a bad life, this. Not a bad life at all.”

She laughed fondly and nudged him with one of her hairy feet, which Fili could see she had washed and combed along with the rest of her person after Beorn had a bath drawn for her yesterday. “Don’t say that just because you think it’s something I want to hear. I know you too well for that, now. A few weeks of this and you would be itching for a hammer and tongs or one of your swords.”

He chuckled at that while marveling inwardly at how easily she had guessed the direction of his thoughts. “’Tis true enough. Though I am glad of the reprieve for now.”

“So, perhaps not forever,” Bilbo said, something strangely wary yet hopeful in her tone. “But maybe every now and then? Maybe… after we reclaim the mountain, and you get rid of the stone…?”

Fili sighed and sat up, turning away from her.

He heard rustling, and thought perhaps Bilbo might have sat up to try and look down into his face, though he was reluctant to check and risk meeting Bilbo’s gaze. He wasn’t prepared to face whatever he might find there.

“What, Fili? I haven’t forgotten what you said before the goblins came.”

Fili could understand that. He doubted he would ever be able to forget the words she spoke to him that night either. Even so. “I cannot make any promises, Bilbo. I may be the Crown Prince, but Thorin is still my king, and I must follow his orders, even in this. If he says I must keep the stone, even after we have taken the mountain, then that is what I will do.”

“I understand that. At least to the extent that I will ever understand the way of it between a king and his people. But I cannot stand by and watch as little pieces of you slip away the longer you let that stone dictate your life.”

“So, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that… I had thought I might ask to stay in Erebor, once the quest is done. I believe Thorin would even be happy to allow it if I asked it of him now. But if staying means having to spend the rest of my life watching this stone eat away your chances for happiness, then I won’t do it. You deserve so much more, Fili.”

He swallowed against the lump that formed in his throat. “It’s not so bad, is it? People always say that the first impression is the most important, and I get to make those a hundred – a thousand times over.” It was something his mother had taken to telling him when Fili was younger and chafed at the restrictions placed upon him. She always sounded so certain when she said it, but he wondered now if it felt as much of a lie to her when it fell from her lips as it did now falling from his own. “Even if they’re not actually real with you.”

Small hands gripped his shoulders and turned him over, forcing him to look up into Bilbo’s unusually intense gaze. “Don’t you understand? I don’t WANT a thousand first impressions! I just want YOU!” Her face paled at the admission, but she clenched her jaw and said again, “I just want you. But not like this. Not when I’m your only option. If ever you become mine, I want it to be because you truly want me in return, and not because you’ve never had a chance to really understand your own heart.”

She let him go and retrieved the basket, escaping their hideout before Fili could coax his limbs into moving again.

Stunned, Fili stared after her, trying to understand how their perfect morning had become such a mess. He bit his lip and banged his head against the ground beneath him in frustration. “Ladies and gentledwarves, the Crown Prince of Erebor.” He snorted. “Well done, Fili. Well done, indeed.”

He and Bilbo spent the rest of their time in Beorn’s home avoiding each other, neither of them sure how to close the distance that had opened up between them. It was the exact opposite of what Fili wanted, and based upon what Bilbo had said, he suspected she felt the same, but schism remained.

Fili tried to distract himself by spending time with his little brother, who welcomed the attention even if he seemed a bit puzzled by it.

“Did something happen, Fee?” he asked at one point when Fili had been quiet for too long. “You seem upset.”

Fili gazed at his brother wordlessly, unsure of how to explain what was the matter without explaining everything, and Thorin had strictly instructed Bilbo and Fili to tell no one of her immunity to the runestone. Fili had not come this far in the quest whilst successfully guarding that secret only to give up now. In the end, he simply said, “No, Kili. Nothing happened.” Which, if he were honest, was exactly the problem.

An entire future full of possibilities had been in his grasp… and he simply let them slip through his fingers. All for the sake of a sense of duty he felt towards his king and towards a people who did not know him from Durin.

“Are you sure?”

“Aye. I’m sure.”

* * *

Mirkwood was horrible, but the disorientation everyone felt there at least gave Fili and Bilbo a bit of a reprieve from maintaining the pretense that she was affected by the runestone as she should be. Yet the unending dimness and the close quarters as they struggled to keep to the path offered Fili no relief from his thoughts, and he could not help going over that second morning at Beorn’s in his mind and wondering what he could have said or done differently.

Even Bombur’s tumble into the river could not pull him out of his head entirely, and the strain of carrying his companion while living on their meager rations made the oppressive nature of the forest loom even greater over him, dragging him ever deeper into dark and wounded thoughts.

Finally, when they were so utterly lost that not even Thorin could continue to deny it, Bilbo offered to scurry up a tree to see if she might be able to find their heading again.

Fili watched her disappear into the thick canopy and felt a strange foreboding that it would be a long time before he would see her again.

His hair raised on the back of his neck and he reached for his swords, trying to call out a warning to the rest of the Company, but by then it was too late.

A sharp, lancing pain shot through the base of his neck, and his world went black.

* * *

Everything ached, but the sound of fighting, distant to his dulled ears, dragged Fili up out of his malaise. His hands felt fat and sluggish as he reached again for his swords, but he gritted his teeth and forced his fingers to clench around the hilts, extending his arms and hacking towards the first set of long, spindly limbs to crash into his view.

He fought as though he was submerged in a thick stew, but gradually the number of spiders around him and the rest of the Company dwindled, until a second wave of them arrived, robbing them of all hope of escape.

The first volley of arrows gave Fili a much-needed burst of determination, even as he realized that they had fallen from one set of captors into another.

At least the elves weren’t going to eat them.

Probably.

* * *

The elves did not eat them.

Instead, they were stripped of their weapons – a process which took the elves in charge of Fili and Nori an inordinately long amount of time and effort, judging from the increasing looks of incredulity and irritation on their faces, and they still did not succeed in finding all of them; even the runestone was a weapon of sorts, but it had remained in the same place where Fili always kept it (He told himself firmly that he was not disappointed that the stone remained in his possession. Not at all.) – and sent to rot in the elven king’s prison cells for as long as Thorin refused to cooperate with King Thranduil.

Fili sighed and stared down the long corridor that made up the dungeon before making himself comfortable.

They were going to be here for a while.

* * *

Even more than half-starved, exhausted, and covered in dirt, grime, and spider webs, Bilbo Baggins was still the most beautiful thing Fili had ever seen.

It had been several days since they were thrown into Thranduil’s dungeon, and it had been even longer since Fili had been given a meal. Kili slipped food and water to him through the bars as often as Fili would allow, but Fili put his foot down when he tried to give Fili more than a third of his rations. He would rather be starved and dehydrated than watch his brother succumb to the same ailments because the elves kept forgetting their twelfth prisoner.

Each time the elves had delivered food, they exclaimed over the discovery of yet another dwarf, but they promptly got over their consternation at needing to fetch another plate and cup of water as soon as they left the area in which Fili was held, as they could no longer remember he existed in the first place.

As Bilbo stepped towards his cell and slipped a key into the lock, she passed him a loaf of bread and said, “Fancy meeting another dwarf here. You wouldn’t happen to have any objections to joining the rest of this lot on a mad quest to see a fire-breathing dragon, would you?” She kept her voice light for the benefit of the others, but her eyes were full of apologies neither of them were going to have the chance to say for good, long while.

“Not a one, Miss,” Fili replied, his mouth full of thick, crusty bread, for once not even caring about whether or not the others in the Company thought it odd that Bilbo had brought him something to eat. “I’d much rather see a fire-breathing dragon than stay stuck in this cell.”

She clapped him on the shoulder, her hand lingering a moment too long. “Good lad. You’ll fit right in.”

* * *

The trip down the river would go down as one of his least favorite experiences on this quest, the loaf of bread threatening to rise up in his throat the entire way. If he never had to so much as smell or look at another apple again, it would still be too soon.

He stumbled out of his apple-ridden barrel and sloshed towards his brother, trying to shove down his panic at the sight of the arrow protruding from Kili’s leg. Kili had been injured before. As long as he could bind the wound and they could find somewhere to shelter long enough to give it the proper care, his little brother would be fine.

When he tried to express this to Thorin, he was given two minutes, and Fili tried not to feel alarmed at the brusque way their uncle responded. Thorin doted on Kili. Even with the threat of orcs on their trail, Fili would have thought Thorin would express a little more concern. Would afford them a little more time.

As he ripped a few strips of cloth from his shirt and tied them around Kili’s leg, Fili tried to ignore the growing sense that something was deeply wrong.

He tied off the hastily made bandages and clasped Kili’s shoulder, pressing their foreheads together for as long as he could before he knew they would have to get moving again. When he pulled away from his brother, he met Bilbo’s eyes, seeing a worry in them that mirrored his own.

* * *

“Oh. Hello, Master Dwarf. How strange it is to run into you here. I thought all of the dwarves had left the East years ago.”

Kili lifted his head from where it lolled back against the wall of the Master’s hall, looking at Bilbo and Fili blearily. “You can drop the act, you two,” he groaned. “At least around me. I’ve known Bilbo wasn’t affected by the runestone since Rivendell.”

Fili blinked and Bilbo spluttered.

“Excuse me?” Bilbo said. She reached up to put one hand on Kili’s forehead, frowning at whatever she found there. “You’re burning up, Kili. Are you sure you’re not imagining things?”

He shot her an exasperated look, though it was dulled by the pallor of his skin and the cloudiness of his eyes. “I know everyone sees me as a bit of an idiot, Bilbo, but I thought you, at least, knew better.”

Her eyes widened. “Kili, of course I know better! I don’t think you’re an idiot at all.”

“Then please stop insulting my intelligence by trying to keep up this farce.” He turned his gaze towards Fili then. “I never actually agreed to drop it in Rivendell, you know. I just stopped asking you about it.”

“You followed me,” Fili said, wondering why he hadn’t considered the possibility at the time. Perhaps it was because before then, he had never given Kili a reason to do so.

“Aye,” Kili agreed, his voice thready and his breathing shallow. “I followed you. After that, it wasn’t hard to put the pieces together.”

He stared at his little brother for a long moment and then glanced at Bilbo, who looked every bit as uncertain of how to proceed as Fili was.

Kili huffed, the sound barely audible amidst the celebrations put on by the Master after the appearance of Thorin and the Company rather forced his hand. “Don’t look so horrified, you two. I haven’t told anyone. Although if you think for a second that you’ve managed to fool Nori, I have news for you.”

Bilbo pursed her lips, sounding extremely consternated when she said, “So, all this time, we’ve been trying to keep this quiet, and you and Nori and however many others already knew?”

“That’s about the long and short of it, yes.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m going to strangle Thorin.”

Fili eyed her warily, hoping she wouldn’t remember exactly how willing he had been to go along with Thorin’s orders.

Kili wavered where he sat, and Fili hastened to support him, wrapping Kili’s arm around his shoulder. “Help me get him up?” he asked.

Hastening to his other side, Bilbo ducked under his other shoulder. “Let’s get you to bed, dear. I can always strangle Thorin in the morning.”

“What about Fili?” Kili asked, the words sounding like mush in his mouth.

“Oh, don’t you worry about Fili. Believe me, he’ll be getting it, too.”

“Wonderful,” Fili huffed, though he was too worried about Kili to feel any real irritation.

They found what looked like a guest room and got Kili situated, piling as many blankets as they could find on top of his shivering form. Bilbo stepped out to fetch a cup of water and returned to the room on her quick, quiet feet, not that anyone paid any mind to such a tiny lass in all the festivities.

Together, she and Fili nursed Kili through the night, and when morning dawned, they helped him limp out to join the rest of the Company.

No one questioned seeing Bilbo arrive in Fili’s company, and the lack of reaction made him wonder if everyone in the Company knew. Had they been playacting for no one’s benefit all this time?

Then something happened that knocked his frustrations over the futility of their efforts entirely out of his head.

“Kili, you will stay behind.”

“What?” Kili laughed nervously. “Is this a joke? Because I have to say, if it is, it’s not a very funny one.”

Thorin wasn’t smiling, though. “If you come with us injured as you are, you will only slow us down. Stay here. Rest. Come and join us when you have healed.”

“What?” Kili said again. “No, I’m coming to Erebor with you.”

“You aren’t. You are to stay here until you have healed, and that is the last I will say about it.” He turned away from anything more Kili might have said, and for a moment, all Fili could do was stare at the tableau in confused horror.

Thorin’s refusal to bring Kili the rest of the way to Erebor hit Fili harder than any blow he’d ever taken to the chest during his training as a young dwarf, before he’d managed to learn how to block properly.

When his body finally caught up to what his brain had just witnessed, Fili began trying to argue with Thorin on his brother’s behalf, but Thorin would not be swayed, and so with a regretful glance toward Bilbo’s worried eyes and pale face, he left the boat and joined Kili.

If Thorin would not honor the promise of hundreds of nights spent spinning tales of the mountain to two little pebbles, then that was his business. Fili did not have to join him. He did have to take care of his ailing brother.

* * *

The bargeman who had brought the Company safely into Lake-town met them at his front door and took Fili and Kili, along with Bofur and Oin, in with a bewildered glance before moving to shut the door again.

Fili shot out a hand to stop the door from closing. “Please. My brother is sick. He needs help.”

“Your brother? Where did you even come from? You were not among the dwarves I brought into town.”

Bofur, who had caught up to them earlier, rolled his eyes and said, “Look, it doesn’t really matter where the lad comes from. The fact of the matter is, his brother is in a right sorry state, and no one will help us. Now, I may not know you, but I’ve known plenty of people like you, and I know that you’re a good man. The kind of man who wouldn’t turn a sick lad and his brother away when they come to you for aid.”

Bard eyed Bofur with a conflicted look plain on his face, which was weathered and care-worn before its time. “Come in. Quickly, before we draw any unwanted attention.”

* * *

The first thing Fili knew of the orcs was the shocked and terrified cry of Bard’s eldest daughter. They came into the house struggling against each other, and Fili dove toward the orc to stop its progress.

He dispatched the first and three more appeared as if from out of nowhere to take its place.

Throughout the fight, Fili tried to keep an eye on his brother, who was fading far faster than Fili would ever be comfortable with, and on Bard’s children, but he was only one dwarf, and his two hands could only do so much at once.

It was an enormous relief when the red-headed elf Kili was so drawn to appeared in the doorway and joined the fray, though he could have lived without seeing her companion again. He dearly hoped life as a prince never made Fili so cold and remote as the blonde elf, who only ever seemed truly alive in the midst of battle, when he might lose it.

“It looks as though the dwarves are multiplying,” the elven princeling said when the battle was finally over, looking Fili over with distaste.

Fili sighed and refused to deign this with a response, turning instead to looking over Kili and Bard’s three children. Sigrid, Tilda, and Bain seemed well enough, if a bit shaken, but Kili…

He hoped Bofur would return that weed soon.

Thankfully, Bofur did return, and the red-headed elf… alright, Tauriel… took the athelas from Bofur and joined Fili where he stood beside his fading brother.

She barely spared Fili a glance, apparently unbothered by her inability to remember him, at least when the fate of Kili was in her hands.

* * *

“FILI!” Bilbo shouted, pelting towards the four of them as they made their way further into the mountain. Everything about Erebor seemed wrong somehow, but that – Bilbo running, full-tilt, her eyes set on him – that felt more right than anything Fili could ever remember, except, perhaps, the vaguest memory of the sound of a booming voice and strong, calloused hands tossing him into the air and catching him as he came back down. “Fili,” she said again as she slammed into him, almost as though she could not remember anything else – and wasn’t that novel, Fili being the only thing left in someone’s thoughts?

“Well, I suppose you’ll be needing to pay me a bit of coin after all, Oin,” Fili heard Bofur say, though the words seemed to come from far away, as Bilbo had tangled her fingers in his hair and dragged him down far enough to cover his slightly parted lips with her own. Even chapped from the abuse their journey had heaped upon them, Bilbo’s lips were soft against his, and he felt a kind of warmth he had never known before as he recovered from his shock and kissed her back.

When she pulled away, he murmured, “I thought you’d decided we couldn’t be together unless-“

“Yes, well, that was before we all nearly died because I accidentally woke up a dragon. I’ve never felt more stupid than I did in that moment as I watched Smaug heading towards Lake-town, knowing you were there, and I was here, and nothing had ever really been resolved between us. Forgive me?”

He pressed his forehead against hers. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

“That’s debateable,” Kili said loftily. “Seeing as I was at death’s door only a few days ago, and you haven’t even had the decency to say hello.”

Bilbo rolled her eyes with a grin and dragged herself away, going to give Kili a hug. “Hello, Kili. I’m so glad to see that you’re alright.” She glanced at Bofur and Oin over Kili’s shoulder. “You, too, Bofur. Oin. Everyone’s been so worried.” Something dark passed over her then, and she bit her lip.

Bofur doffed his hat towards her. “Good t’see you alive and well, too, lass. T’would be a shame to lose such a pretty thing as yourself to old Smaug.”

Shooting him a mock glare, Fili muttered, “Watch yourself,” though he was unable to prevent his lips from tilting upwards.

“Oh, go on, lad. You know I don’t mean any harm by it,” Bofur said with his usual insouciant grin. “Besides, people aren’t blind. You’ll have to get used to people noticing what a bonnie lass she is sooner or later.”

“And people won’t realize she’s taken,” Fili concluded grimly. He honestly hadn’t thought of that.

Kili clapped him on the back bracingly. “That’s what courting beads and braids are for, brother. And besides. We’re in Erebor, now. Surely you won’t have to keep the runestone for much longer. Erebor is far more defensible than Ered Luin ever was. We’re safe now.”

“About that,” Bilbo said, looking hesitant.

“What?” Fili asked. “What’s wrong?”

She swallowed audibly. “Well, you see, it’s about your uncle.”

* * *

It didn’t matter that Fili had the runestone in the midst of a battle. Orcs cared not whether they knew a dwarf; they only cared that he was one, and that meant that he must die. He was glad that he had sent Kili away, and he hoped that wherever Bilbo had gone after her banishment, she was far, far away from here.

The orcs set upon him from all sides, and he held them off for as long as he could, but he could not stand against them forever. Eventually, he was overwhelmed, and they took his weapons and dragged him before their leader, who taunted him and dragged him out to dangle before all those upon the battlefield.

He met Thorin’s eyes and then Bilbo’s, still struggling in vain to get away from the giant orc who had tormented his family for so long. Her face was frozen in a mask of heartbreak and horror, and she took off running, coming straight towards him in an awful parody of the way she had run to him when he first arrived in his forefathers’ halls.

“The stone, Fili! Use the stone! Yavannah’s mercy, for once in your life put that miserable thing to good use!”

His eyes widened and his hand flew towards the place where he always kept the stone, drawing it out and slamming it into the meat of the arm holding him in place. The grip of the hand holding him slackened enough for him to twist and begin climbing up to the pale orc’s shoulders, evading flailing limbs and wrapping one arm around his neck. With the runestone gripped firmly in his other hand, he broke Azog’s nose, hoping the pain would blind him long enough for Fili to be able to do some real damage.

He climbed up higher, until he clung with his legs upon Azog’s shoulders, using one hand for leverage and the other to bring the stone down upon Azog’s skull again and again, until the stone split and bits of it lodged in Azog’s flesh, and the pale orc faltered, losing his balance.

Fili had one breathless moment, suspended on Azog’s shoulders over the edge of the tower, to consider the possibility that he had grossly miscalculated. Then they were falling, Fili struggling to put Azog’s body between himself and the rapidly approaching ground, and then they hit the rocky earth with a sickening _smack_.

He opened his eyes, unsure when he had closed them, and scrambled away from Azog, feeling his shoulders slump when he saw that the brute was dead, his hateful eyes staring up at the sky, unseeing.

A tiny blur slammed into him from the side, and he whirled around swiftly, bringing his hands up to strike. He redirected them at the last moment, when he saw the top of Bilbo’s wild head full of curls, opting to wrap his arms around her.

She trembled against him. “You beautiful idiot. _Never_ scare me like that again.”

He tightened his hold upon her for a moment and then told her, “Come on. Let’s get you out of here, away from the fighting.”

She shook her head, pulling away slightly to look up at him. “We have to find Kili.”

Thorin came up behind her, and Dwalin as well. “We’ll find him, lass,” Dwalin said, before looking at Fili. “Go on, lad. Get our burglar out of here.”

“Oh, not you, too, Dwalin,” Bilbo said.

“Now, Fili,” Thorin said. “We’re wasting time.”

Fili scooped her up and put her over his shoulder, and Dwalin and Thorin both shot him approving nods.

“Now, really, this is ridiculous. Put me down!”

“I don’t think so,” Fili said, searching for a safe path that would lead them away from the battle. He found what looked like a relatively safe route and took off, hardly feeling the extra weight of Bilbo upon his shoulder. She really was far too light. They would have to do something about that.

“I’ve fought orcs before, or have you forgotten? Giant spiders, too.”

“And as I recall, you hated every minute of it. A battle like this is no place for you. And besides, I don’t have a weapon at the moment. Would you really have me fighting unarmed?”

“I don’t believe that for a moment. And even if you don’t have a weapon on you, I know for a fact you could solve that problem. This place is riddled with them. Besides, if all else fails, you’re welcome to use Sting.”

“I’m touched,” Fili said dryly, still undeterred.

“You should be,” she groused. “I’ve grown quite attached.”

Fili had almost reached the safety of Erebor’s halls when the eagles began to arrive.

* * *

Six months later, Fili stood at the gates, Bilbo and Kili on either side, watching as a cloud of dust rose into the air, accompanied by the clanking of metal and the tromping of many booted feet and the creaking and groaning of carts.

He glanced towards Thorin, who stood on Kili’s other side. His face was shining with pride and eager anticipation, exulting in this, the day when they could finally welcome all their people home to the mountain.

When he dragged his gaze away, the sounds began to fade, and the dust started to settle. He waited with poor patience, yearning for the first sight of his mother in well over a year.

At last, a lone figure stepped forward, ahead of the body of people which seemed to stretch out towards the horizon.

His heart leapt. He knew that hair. His hands had crafted that armor.

“Hail, Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thrór, King Under the Mountain!” the figure called, her voice rich and resonant in the spring air.

“Who is it that stands at the gates of Erebor?” Thorin called back.

“I am Dis, daughter of Thrain, son of Thrór, come to bring your people home.”

“Well met, Dis, daughter of Thrain, son of Thrór. And welcome, all of you, to Erebor.”

* * *

A knock at the door to his chambers drew Fili away from where he had been frowning at his reflection in the mirror. He could not escape the feeling that there was something wrong with his appearance today, though every braid was in place, every clasp and lace secured. He opened the door and found Meti, the young servant assigned to him, waiting with one hand held out towards him.

“Lady Bilbo said you would need these, Prince Fili.”

Fili’s brow furrowed, but he accepted the small bits of metal Meti dropped onto his palm readily enough, pleased with his progress. It had taken quite a bit of getting used to, having someone outside of his family converse with him regularly, deliver things to him, see to his needs, and all without being sent to do so. Well, aside from today, apparently.

He studied the things in his hand and found two beads, inlaid with the symbols he would expect to see on courtship beads for one of the line of Durin. Ah. It would seem Bilbo had beaten him to it.

Though Kili had been right all those months ago when he pointed out that Fili and Bilbo could have used courting beads to let other dwarves know that they were both spoken for, the cracking of the runestone during the Battle of the Five Armies, and Thorin and Dis’s decision to never again craft a new one for Fili, meant that Fili and Bilbo had been able to take their time. People knew who Fili was now, and they knew that Bilbo was close to him. There was no need for either of them to use beads to stake their claim on one another before they were ready for the latter stages of courtship. Not anymore.

In light of this, they had spent the months since retaking Erebor getting to know each other away from the pressures of the quest and reaffirming the words Bilbo had spoken so long ago at Beorn’s. She truly did just want Fili, and Fili wanted her in return.

Glancing up at Meti, who waited with his eyebrows raised, Fili clasped the beads in his hand and said, “Wait here. I have something for the lady, as well.”

Meti, who had known Fili was working on a set of beads for Bilbo, gave him a grin and clasped his hands behind his back to signal that he would stay right where he was until Fili returned. “I thought you might, Your Highness.”

Fili shot him a look just before the door closed behind him, and caught sight of Meti’s cheeky smirk. Meti knew how much Fili hated it when he called him that.

He shook his head and went over to his bedside drawer, wherein a small leather pouch laid. He pulled out the supple leather pouch and took it out to Meti, who sure enough still waited in the corridor designated for the royal family. “Please see that she gets these and let her know that I would be happy to help her put them in her hair.”

“I don’t think so, Your Highness. Princess Dis gave me firm instructions not to let you visit Lady Bilbo this morning. She said something about not wanting you to be late for your uncle’s coronation and your confirmation as Crown Prince.”

“Well, that’s just… completely fair, actually. I find I cannot fault my mother’s logic in this instance.”

“Nor I, Your Highness.”

Fili tried and failed to stop the smile threatening to spread across his face. As irritating as he found it that Meti called him that, he still could not get over how happy it made him that the other dwarf _knew_ that it irked him. He suspected that ultimately, that was the reason Meti persisted.

A few hours later, Fili knelt before his uncle, who placed the crown Fili had forged specifically for this day upon Fili’s head. “Rise, Fili, son of Vili, of the line of Durin, Crown Prince of Erebor.”

He rose and turned to face the hundreds of dwarves, Men, and elves gathered to witness this day, the first anniversary after the Company reclaimed the mountain. Many of them he had met – or reintroduced himself to – over the last twelve-month as he helped to restore Erebor and establish relations with Mirkwood and the fledgling new city of Dale. To his greatest joy, he had discovered that he was well-liked, and not only upon a first impression, and so he knew that when those gathered before him cheered, they truly cheered for him.

Beside him, Bilbo held out her hand, and he threaded his larger, calloused fingers through her own.

“Congratulations, Fili. You will be a Crown Prince that the people of Middle Earth will never forget.”


End file.
